Produced by Emmy, MFR, Linda Cantoni, and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images generously made available by The Internet Archive). This project is dedicated with love to Emmy's memory.
[Illustration: "That wasn't the way it happened," said a clear voice above them. (_See page 67._)]
_By_ EDITH KEELEY STOKELY _And_ MARIAN KENT HURD
BOSTON [symbol] LOTHROP PUBLISHING COMPANY
COPYRIGHT, 1905, BY LOTHROP, LEE & SHEPARD COMPANY
NORWOOD PRESS BERWICK & SMITH CO. NORWOOD, MASS. U.S.A.
"That wasn't the way it happened," said a clear voice above them _Frontispiece_
"I have a leaning toward an up-to-date stable and riding ponies, myself" 82
Marie Jean was gotten up in a style known as "regardless" 240
She was telling him the history of the day 279
"All Oi do be nadin'," ... "is a check-rein from the top av me head to me shoulder blades" 343
"The house looked wretched and woe-begone: Its desolate windows wept With a dew that forever dripped and crept From the moss-grown eaves: and ever anon Some idle wind, with a passing slap, Made rickety shutter or shingle flap."
MARCH had gone out like a roaring lion, and April had slipped demurely in, armed with a pot of green paint and a scrubbing brush. There was not much to paint in Cherry Street. A few sparse blades of grass, tenacious of life, clung here and there to curbstone and dooryard; but there was plenty to scrub, and the Spring maid fell to with a will.
In consequence, on this Saturday morning, the water rushed down the gutters in torrents, while at the same time the small denizens of Cherry Street were lifted into the seventh heaven of delight by the sun's showing his jolly face through the clouds and inviting them out to wade. To make their happiness, if possible, more complete, a pine-wood wagon, creaking and groaning under its heavy weight, had turned the corner by Coffey's saloon and was coming up the street. The small Cherryites paused in blissful anticipation to watch its progress, while miniature Niagara cataracts hissed and foamed about their bare legs.
History repeats itself, and they argued with reason that when the driver should reach the end of the block and find it a blind: a street with no outlet, he would be covered with confusion and beat his horses and swear horribly in trying to turn around.