Bart, annoyed by the sound, picked up a bit of driftwood and hurled it at him, missing him by a few inches.

The narrowness of the escape silenced the dog and sent him to the rear with drooping tail and ears.
Bart should have minded Meg's warning.

A broad beach in the full glare of the setting sun, even when protected by a House of Refuge, is a poor place to be alone in.
A woman was passing along the edge of the bluffs, carrying a basket in one hand and a green umbrella in the other; a tall, thin, angular woman, with the eye of a ferret.

It was Ann Gossaway's day for visiting the sick, and she had just left Fogarty's cabin, where little Tod, with his throat tied up in red flannel, had tried on her mitts and played with her spectacles.

Miss Gossaway had heard Meg's bark and had been accorded a full view of Lucy's back covered by Jane's red cloak, with Bart sitting beside her, their shoulders touching.
Lovers with their heads together interested the gossip no longer, except as a topic to talk about.