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She took off the thick boots in which she had walked thus far, put on her pretty thin ones of patent leather, and, stuffing the former into the hedge by the gatepost where she might readily find them again, descended the hill; the freshness of colour she had derived from the keen air thinning away in spite of her as she drew near the parsonage.
As was usually the case when this happened, Jane, designated by mournful Mark as "the Pindling One," was sitting on the gatepost gazing disconsolately down the road. There were traces of tears upon her thin little face and the warmth of the hug which returned her sister's greeting was evidence of an unusually disturbed mind. "Why aren't you playing with the other children, Jane?"
Campbell, pretending to feel insulted at her intimation that he had not given her a large enough share of his chair, "the first time I ever called at your house, I found you sitting on the gatepost, the gatepost, mind you, about so square," measuring with his hands; "and just as I turned in from the road, you began to sing, 'The Campbells are coming, oho, oho! What kind of a reception do you call that?
"I just happened to see you going by," she said, and then, with an astounding perfection of seriousness, she added the question: "Did you mind my calling to you and stopping you, Noble?" He leaned, drooping, upon the gatepost, seeming to yearn toward it; his expression was such that this gatepost need not have been surprised if Noble had knelt to it. "Why, no," he said hoarsely.
This seemed to save him from China, and he added recklessly: "I guess I wouldn't be missed much around this old town if I did go." "Yes, you would," Julia said quickly. "Your family'd miss you and so would everybody." "Julia, you wouldn't " She laughed lightly. "Of course I should, and so would papa." Noble released the gatepost and appeared to slant backward. "What?"
"And was it there he stole the horse?" asked Rodney. "Well, between you and me and the gatepost, he never stole a horse," replied Mr. Westall slowly, as if he were reluctant to make the admission. Rodney Gray crossed his legs, clasped his hands around one knee and settled back on his nail keg with an air that said, almost as plainly as words: "I knew it all the time."
Seating himself on the grass outside the fence, he leaned his back against the gatepost, apparently settling himself for conversation. "Now, how long might it have been," he asked, "before we showed up, that you seen us?" "I saw you," Miss Farrar said, "when Mr. when that bicycle scout was talking to me. I saw the red bands on your hats among the bushes." The sergeant appeared interested.
I have referred to it as the "headquarters," and it may be a solitary tree or bush, an outstanding mound or mole hillock, a gatepost or a railing anything in fact that supplies a convenient resting place so long as it fulfils one condition, namely that the bird when it is there is conspicuous.
"Money?" he echoed, his face the picture of innocence, as he deftly set the table and beat up an omelette. "I should say not! Why?" "'Cause we found some on the gatepost the night you were here, and I thought maybe you had lost it. No, I didn't think so, either. Gail thought you might have lost it." Into his ears she poured the whole story of the long, hard year.
The blur passed in an instant, and a monster dog wolf lay at the gatepost, relaxing in a spasm of death. Dell checked his horse and returned, lamenting the loss of a foot's length from his favorite rope. It had cut on the saddle tree, and thus saved horse and rider from an ugly fall.
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