Henderson's chair.
"Oh, I'm awful sorry," she said. Her face was very flushed and her eyes
glowed with the run.
"Ben gallivantin' off an' temptin' the boys to play," declared Miss
Jerusha, with a shrewd nod of her brown front. "Oh, I know."
"We won't say any more about it now, dear," said Mrs. Henderson gently, at
sight of the hot little face. "There, get into your chair, this one next to
me. Where's Peletiah?"--looking about.
"Oh, I'm awful tired," wailed Ezekiel, slipping into his seat next to the
parson, and he drew the back of his hand across his red face.
"Ben playing so hard," said Miss Jerusha disagreeably, "an' now you're all
het up."
"I haven't played a single bit," declared Ezekiel stoutly, and with a very
injured expression of countenance. "Oh, dear me, I AM so tired!" stretching
his legs under the table.
"Eat your dinner, my son," said the parson, putting a liberal portion on
his plate.
"Oh, dear me!" Ezekiel essayed to, but laid down his spoon. "I don't want
anything, I'm so tired."
Mrs. Henderson cast an anxious glance over at him.
"No need to worry," her husband telegraphed back, going quietly on with his
own dinner. Rachel had begun on hers with hungry zest, but stopped
suddenly, hopped out of her chair, and raced to the door.
"Rachel!" It wasn't a loud voice, but she found herself back again and
looking into Mrs.
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