"
"Oh!" said Rachel. Perhaps it wasn't so very bad as she feared. She would
wait and see.
"She's dreadfully deaf," remarked Peletiah.
"What's that?"
"She can't hear unless you scream."
Rachel burst into a loud laugh, but it was very musical; and before they
knew it, although they were very much astonished, the two boys were
laughing, too, though they hadn't the least idea at what.
"I'm glad of it," announced Rachel, when she had gotten through. "I love to
scream. Sometimes it seems as if I'd die if I couldn't. Don't you?"
"No, I don't," said Peletiah, "ever feel so."
"Don't _you?"_ Rachel leaned over to peer into Ezekiel's face.
"No, I don't, either," he said.
"Oh, dear me!" exclaimed Rachel, catching her breath. "Well, let's run."
And before either boy knew what was going to happen, she was hauling them
along at such a mad pace as they had never before in all their lives
indulged in.
The butter-pat slipped out of Peletiah's hand, gone on the wind, and landed
on the roadside grass.
"Wasn't that a good one!" cried Rachel, her eyes shining, as she brought up
suddenly. "Oh, my! ain't things sweet, though!"--wrinkling up her nose in
delight.
"I lost the butter-pat," observed Peletiah, when he could get his breath.
"I never see anything so beautiful," Rachel was saying, over and over. Then
she flung herself flat on the grass, and buried her nose in it, smelling it
hungrily.
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