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Updated: May 15, 2025
"Marry," quoth merry Robin, "I sit beneath the hedge here to drop salt on the tails of golden birds; but in sooth thou art the first chick of any worth I ha' seen this blessed day." At these words the Cobbler's eyes opened big and wide, and his mouth grew round with wonder, like a knothole in a board fence. "Slack-a-day," quoth he, "look ye, now! I ha' never seen those same golden birds.
Frightened, but thoroughly roused to her only hope, Priscilla staggered to the door, clutched the key in cold, trembling fingers, and turned it in the lock. Then, sinking upon her knees, she crept back to the fire, keeping close to the wall. If an eye were pressed to a knothole in the shutter it could not follow her. Priscilla kept the fire alive.
"Marry," quoth merry Robin, "I sit beneath the hedge here to drop salt on the tails of golden birds; but in sooth thou art the first chick of any worth I ha' seen this blessed day." At these words the Cobbler's eyes opened big and wide, and his mouth grew round with wonder, like a knothole in a board fence, "slack-a-day," quoth he, "look ye, now! I ha' never seen those same golden birds.
"Are we far from anywhere?" asked Marcella, smiling at him. He spat assiduously through a knothole in the boarding and looked from her to Louis. "Depends on what you call far," he said reflectively. "There's Gaynor's about fifteen miles along, an' Loose End nigh on thirty. Where yous makin' for, then?" "I should say Loose End would suit us, by the sound of it," said Louis with a laugh.
The trail, at first so plainly marked, had, as a famous woodsman has said, "petered out into a squirrel track, run up a tree and disappeared into a knothole."
Sure enough thirty feet or so from the ground the toe of a much-used leather boot stuck out through a knothole. Mary refused to take an interest in the boot. It was high time we went home. She herself had a headache. Our mother would be angry with her for taking us on the forbidden farm. She was sorry she had done so. No, she wasn't angry. We were good children; she loved us. Wouldn't we come?
Having found nothing in Swing's warbags save his friend's personal belongings, Racey slid the knife up his sleeve and went downstairs to breakfast. On the way he stopped a moment at a fortuitous knothole in the board wall. When he passed on his way the knife was no longer with him. Jack Harpe was still eating when Racey eased himself into the chair at Swing's right hand.
Perhaps I did kick a book that was lying on the floor; but he didn't look at that little knothole, only toward the door that led to the outside office. Then he sat down again. I could see that he was smiling as if pleased. Mr. Goodwyn came back just then, and I moved away." The two looked at each other for a moment without another word being said.
“Let’s both together try to break it,” proposed Sammie, but they couldn’t do it. I don’t know what they would have done, and perhaps Sammie would have had to stay there forever, but at that moment along came the old alligator. He looked through the knothole in the fence, and he saw Sammie and Bully in the cage.
Then, dismissing this temporary annoyance of a small boy yelling at him through a knothole, he hurried into the very midst of the crumbs. He picked one up; he turned round to the hens; he dropped it to demonstrate what he had found. The hens cackled in admiration of the splendid performance.
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