"Scrumptious. Haven't you ever heard that? Oh, what a nin--I mean, oh, how
funny!"
"And it ain't nice at all to have my father teach you," said Peletiah, with
very doleful ideas of that study.
"Why?" asked Rachel, with gathering dread.
"Oh, he makes you learn things," said Peletiah dismally, drawing a long
sigh at the remembrance.
"But that's just what I want to do," cried Rachel, with sparkling eyes;
"I'm goin' to learn an' learn, till I can't learn no more."
Peletiah was so occupied in edging off from her that he forgot to correct
her speech.
"Yes, I'm goin' to learn," exclaimed Rachel, in a glad little shout, and,
springing to her feet, she swung her arms over her head. "I'm goin' to read
an' I'm goin' to write, an' then I can write a letter to my Phronsie."
She ended up with a cheese, plunging down on the grass and puffing out her
gown like a small balloon.
"You can't do that," she said, nodding triumphantly up at the two boys.
"I don't want to," said Peletiah, sitting still on the door-stone.
"Well, you can't, anyway, 'cause you haven't got a frock. Well, now, let's
play," and she hopped to her feet. "Come on. What'll it be?"
"I'll show you the brook," volunteered Ezekiel, getting up.
"What's a brook?" asked Rachel.
"Hoh--hoh!" Ezekiel really laughed, it was so funny. "She doesn't know what
a brook is," he said, and he laughed again.
Pages:
145
146
147
148
149
150
151
152
153
154
155
156
157
158
159
160
161
162
163
164
165
166
167
168
169