There are some as big as buckets and some like base
ball bats, but I don't care for those."
"What a collection," applauded Ethel Brown.
"Beside that my idea of Japanese morning glories and a hop vine for our
kitchen regions has no value at all," smiled Helen.
"I'm going to have hops wherever the vines can find a place to climb at
Sweetbrier," Dorothy determined. "I love a hop vine, and it grows on
forever."
"James and I seem to be in the same condition. If we don't start home
we'll go on talking forever," Margaret complained humorously.
"There's to be hot chocolate for us down stairs at half past four," said
Dorothy, jumping up and looking at a clock that was ticking
industriously on a shelf. "Let's go down and get it, and we'll ask
Mother to sing the funny old song of 'The Four Seasons' for us."
"Why is it funny?" asked Ethel Blue.
"It's a very old English song with queer spelling."
"Something like mine?" demanded Della.
Ethel Blue kissed her.
"Never mind; Shakspere spelled his name in several different ways," she
said encouragingly, "Anyway, we can't tell how this is spelled when Aunt
Louise sings it."
As they sat about the fire in the twilight drinking their chocolate and
eating sandwiches made of nuts ground fine, mixed with mayonnaise and
put on a crisp lettuce leaf between slices of whole wheat bread, Mrs.
Pages:
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
50
51
52
53
54
55
56
57
58
59
60
61
62
63