The
front yard was terraced, and two flights of stone steps led up to the
front door. He was quite breathless when he stood on the top step; his
round, sweet face was pink, his fair hair plastered in flat locks to his
wet forehead. His little trousers and his shoes were muddy, and he
carried a great scraggy mass of sassafras-roots. "I see you a-settin'
out here," he panted, softly.
"You ought not to have stayed so long. We began to be worried about
you," said his mother, in a fond voice. "Now go and take your muddy
shoes right off, and put on your slippers; then you can sit down at the
back door and clean your sassafras, if you want to."
"I got lots," said Willy, smiling sweetly, and wiping his forehead.
"Look-a-there, Miss Elviry."
"So you did," returned Miss Elvira. "I suppose, now, you think you'll
have some sassafras-tea."
"Yes, ma'am."
"I guess I'll steep him a little for supper, he's so crazy for it," said
Mrs. Rose, when Willy had disappeared smilingly around the corner.
"Yes, I would. It's real wholesome for him. Who's that comin'?"
Mrs. Rose stared down at the road. A white horse with an open buggy was
just turning into the drive-way, around the south side of the terraces.
"Why, it's brother Hiram," said she, "and he's got a boy with him. I
wonder who 'tis."
The buggy drew up with a grating noise in the drive-way. Presently a man
appeared around the corner.
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