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Updated: May 2, 2025
Annie declared that she could not "to save her life" say one civil word to that odious boy. Janzoon believed her to be the sweetest, sauciest creature in the world. Annie laughed among her playmates at the comical flapping of Janzoon's tattered and dingy jacket; he sighed in solitude over the floating grace of her jaunty blue petticoat.
"See here, old pincushion, I'd run home yonder and get you a chunk of gingerbread if I thought you could open your mouth." Old pincushion was human long hours of waiting had made him ravenously hungry. At Janzoon's hint, his countenance showed signs of a collapse. "That's right, old fellow," pursued his tempter. "Hurry up! What news? old Brinker dead?"
Why, the race is coming off in five days!" "I know it," he answered resolutely. "Good-bye! I shall skate home again on the old wooden ones." Such a bright glance! So different from Janzoon's ugly grin and Hans was off like an arrow. "Hans, come back!" she called. Her voice changed the arrow into a top. Spinning around, he darted, in one long, leaning sweep, toward her.
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