So for an hour, perhaps.
"Is Miss Georgie Howard at home?" It was Evadna standing in the
doorway, her indigo eyes fixed with innocent gayety--which her
mouth somehow failed to meet halfway in mirth--upon the reader.
"She is, chicken, and overjoyed at the sight of you!" Miss
Georgie rose just as enthusiastically as if she had not seen
Evadna slip from Huckleberry's back, fuddle the tie-rope into
what looked like a knot, and step lightly upon the platform. She
had kept her head down--had Miss Georgie--until the last
possible second, because she was still being a fool and had
permitted a page of her book to fog before her eyes. There was
no fog when she pushed Evadna into the seat of honor, however,
and her mouth abetted her eyes in smiling.
"Everything at tho ranch is perfectly horrid," Evadna complained
pathetically, leaning back in the rocking-chair. "I'd just as
soon be shut up in a graveyard. You can't IMAGINE what it's
like, Georgie, since those horrible men came and camped around
all over the place! All yesterday afternoon and till dark, mind
you, the boys were down there shooting at everything but the men,
and they began to shoot back, and Aunt Phoebe was afraid the boys
would be hit, and so we all went down and--oh, it was awful! If
Grant hadn't come home and stopped them, everybody would have
been murdered.
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