It was her first party and she was going to have a splendid time.

There was nothing in the world to worry about--not even freckles and over-long legs--nothing except one little haunting fear that nobody would ask her to dance.

It was beautiful and satisfying just to be alive--to be fifteen--to be pretty.

Rilla drew a long breath of rapture--and caught it midway rather sharply.

Jem was telling some story to Faith--something that had happened in the Balkan War.
"The doctor lost both his legs--they were smashed to pulp--and he was left on the field to die.