"Jem and Walter and the girls away--it makes a big blank, doesn't it?
But--" he leaned forward until his dark curls almost brushed her hair--"doesn't Fred Arnold try to fill the blank occasionally.

I've been told so." At this moment, before Rilla could make any reply, Jims began to cry at the top of his voice in the room whose open window was just above them--Jims, who hardly ever cried in the evening.

Moreover, he was crying, as Rilla knew from experience, with a vim and energy that betokened that he had been already whimpering softly unheard for some time and was thoroughly exasperated.

When Jims started in crying like that he made a thorough job of it.

Rilla knew that there was no use to sit still and pretend to ignore him.