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Updated: October 2, 2024


More silence; more smoke; more profound meditation. Directly Charley Burnham looked around with some show of vitality. "There comes the stage," said he. The driver's bugle rang merrily among the drifted sand-hills that lay warm and glowing in the orange light of the setting sun. The young men leaned forward over the piazza-rail and scrutinized the occupants of the vehicle as it appeared.

Do sit down, Cricket, and be sensible." "If I sat down I'd be insensible," answered Cricket, trying to sit cross-legged on the piazza-rail. "There's old Billy! I'll take him for a row," and Cricket, tipping herself sideways, alighted on her feet on the ground below, and ran off. "Such a child," sighed Hilda, with the air of forty years. "She is reprehensible!" aiming at irrepressible.

It was a hot summer day, and Betty had been running and jumping and skipping and prancing all the morning, so she was now rather tired; and after she had jumped from the piazza-rail into the heap of grass she did not hop up nimbly at once, but lay quite still, burying her face in the sweet-smelling hay and fragrant clover, feeling very comfortable and contented. "Betty! Betty!"

He looked provokingly cool and comfortable to the dusty horsemen, and very much at home. Phil, who lounged against the piazza-rail opposite, dispensed an enormous and meaning wink at his two friends as they came up the steps. Clover jumped up from her chair, and gave them a most cordial reception. "How delightful to see you again so soon!" she said.

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