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"So you shall," cried Polly, rapturously; "and, children, I never saw anything so perfectly beautiful as it is this afternoon! Isn't the sky blue!" Little David looked up and smiled. Joel threw back his head and squinted critically. "I wish I could go sailing up there on that cloud," he said. "I don't," said Polly, merrily, swinging her tin pail.
The cattle were milling in an endless merry-go-round, contented under the sheltering bluffs, lowing for mates and cronies, while above howled the elements with unrelenting fury. "We'll have to guard this entrance until the cattle bed down for the night," remarked Joel, on surveying the situation. "I wonder if we could start a fire."
"I can't make it Joel!" shouted West. "I'll have to turn back." "All right," Joel called. "Go up to the field and send some one for help." Then he turned his attention again to his strokes, and raising his head once, saw an open river before him with nothing in sight between him and the opposite bank save, farther down stream, a floating oar.
I truly am!" And Joel would insist on roaring like a bear, and prancing and waving his arms, around which Polly had tied a lot of black hair that Mamsie had let her take out of her cushion. "Joel, you spoil everything!" cried Ben at him. "See here, now all your hair is tumbling off from your arms." "They ain't arms.
"I hardly think Mike would answer," observed Joel, not altogether without a sneer. "He scurce knows an Indian from a white man; when it comes to the paint, it would throw him into dreadful confusion." "If ye thinks that I am to be made to believe in any more Ould Nicks, Misther Strhides, then ye're making a mistake in my nature.
Without struggle or contest, the worthy pleasures of life lose their nectar. The general thaw came as a welcome relief. The cattle had gradually weakened, a round dozen had fallen in sacrifice to the elements, and steps must be taken to recuperate the herd. "We must loose-herd hereafter," said Joel, rejoicing in the thawing weather. "A few warm days and the corral will get miry.
"Does your head ache often at school, Joel?" she asked, softly laying her cool little palm on his stubby hair. "Yes," said Joel, "it does, awfully, Phronsie; and nobody cares, and says 'Stop studying." A shout greeted this. "That's too bad," said Phronsie pityingly, "I shall just write and ask Mr. Marks if he won't let you stop and rest when it aches."
The golden-rod had passed its prime, though here and there a yellow torch yet lighted the shadowed tangles of shrub and vine beneath the wall, but the asters still bloomed on, and it was while bending over a clump of them that Joel heard the whir of wheels on the smooth road and turned to see a bicyclist speeding toward him from the direction of the academy.
"That shouldst thou know, for since the first time he crossed our threshold thou hast made thy dwelling place at his feet. And his banner of love methinks is large enough for all sorts of women to find place under, even such kind as would pollute thee by a touch." "What meanest thou, Martha?" "No more than I did say. Did not Joel attend a feast where Jesus had been bidden?
Little Davie, in distress, clapped his hands to his ears. "Oh, Polly, don't make him," he was saying, when heavy steps came around the corner of the house. "Any ra-ags to sell?" sang out the voice of a very big man. Joel took one black eye away from his brown hands, and shot a sharp look at him. Then he howled worse than ever. "No," said Polly, "not to-day, Mr. Biggs.
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