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Nell’s answer was somehow strangely muffled. “I was ten in January, the twelfth,” May Nell replied, with no pride in her tone; she was always older than those of her size. Yet she was not prepared for the gasps and backward movement of the twins. “Mebbe she’s all right,” admitted the boy..
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Conrad
Nell looked toward the morning-glory garden and there she saw Betty kneeling in the moonlight. Jethro was sitting up on his hind legs beside the little figure, holding his paws before him. The moonlight fell on his penitential white body, on the stiff braids of the sorrowful and contrite Betty, and lighted up the bright yellow nasturtiums that filled the air with their pungent odor. The morning-glory leaves gleamed in the pure white light. “I got an orful cold, goin’ in an’ out so orften,” he complained. “Go and bring him now, so you can renovate his appearance before supper,” directed the mother. To the melody of the shining bells, Betty dropped off to sleep..
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