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At first, Cis demurred, arguing that to cut a stem might injure the rose at its top; but was won over when Johnnie pointed out that all of the stems had been already cut once "and maybe it was good for 'em!" But then the question was, which of the seventeen stems could best spare a bit of its length? This took consideration; also, measuring with a string. At last the longest stem of all was found.
We can have a run in the fields and gather May dew before any one is afoot." "'Tis not May, 'tis June," said matter-of-fact Diccon. "But yonder is a guard at the yard gate; will he let us past?" "See, here's a little wicket into a garden of pot-herbs," said Cis. "No doubt we can get out that way, and it will bring us the sooner into the fields.
I sampled the dressing, as I came in. Isn't it time they were here?" "Unless the train is late. Poor Cousin Ted! She has worked all the morning. I do hope things will be good." "Cis!" "Yes, Cousin Will." "Do you happen to know where Ted keeps her keys? I want to get something out of that box of old trumpery of mine in the attic, and the thing is locked." "I'll see if I can find them."
If I may at once wed my little Cis I will send word to Sir John Norreys that I am not for this expedition to the Low Countries, though there is good and manly work to be done there, and I have the offer of a command, but I gave not my word till I knew your will, and whether we might wed at once." "Thou hast much to hear, my son." "Nay, surely no one has come between!" exclaimed Humfrey.
But not at what Cis had been saying; it was evident that some new and pleasant thought had occurred to him. He nodded his head over it. "I thought maybe it was that dude again," he remarked cheerfully. "But it was One-Eye fitted y' out! Hm! And when I'm off at work, instead o' doin' what y' ought t', y' fix y'rself up, don't y'? soldier boy stuff!" "I I do my work in these," pleaded Johnnie.
Now he smiled; and what with the shine of his tow hair, his light brows and his flaxen lashes, combined with the flash of his yellow-flecked eyes and white teeth, the effect was as if sunlight were falling upon that brave, freckleless, blue-striped face. The four went then, the Father guiding One-Eye, and Cis with Mr. Perkins.
However, as Johnnie afterward remarked to Cis, when it came to judging what the cowboy felt about this or that, a person never could tell. For, "Glad?" repeated One-Eye, raising the bent head; "w'y, sonny, I'm tickled t' death t' hear it! jes' plumb tickled t' death!"
His whole manner irritated Barber, who sauntered to the table, took a careful survey of it, drew out the drawer, looked it over, then dropped into the morris chair to pull on his socks. Now he sensed, as had Cis the day before, that the air of the flat was charged with something something that was strange to it. He did not guess it was happiness.
He opened the book at the first page; and knew how different this one was from the directory, with its solid lines of names; from the speller, printed in columns of words, or the arithmetic, which was all hit-or-miss. Here was a page divided into paragraphs, as in the newspapers which Cis sometimes smuggled in.
The latter took a cigar out of an upper vest pocket and worried one end of it with a tooth. "It's half-pas' seven, sonny," he said. Johnnie backed another step. Half-past seven gave him a swift vision of the flat Grandpa asleep, Barber pacing the splintery floor in a rage, Cis weeping at the window, Mrs. Kukor waddling about, talking with tongue and hands.
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