It went slipping, and whispering, and lipping, and lapping over the stones, tugging at the rushes and grasses as it washed their feet; everything beside it was in masses of bloom, a blackbird was gleaming and preening on every stone, as it plumed after its bath.

Oh there's no use to try--it was just SPRING when it couldn't possibly be any better.
But even spring couldn't hold me very long that morning, for you see my heart was almost sick about Laddie; and if he couldn't have the girl he wanted, at least I could do my best to comfort him with the pie.

I was going along being very careful the more I thought about how he would like it, so I was not watching the road so far ahead as I usually did.
I always kept a lookout for Paddy Ryan, Gypsies, or Whitmore's bull.
When I came to an unusually level place, and took a long glance ahead, my heart turned right over and stopped still, and I looked long enough to be sure, and then right out loud some one said, "I'll DO something!" and as usual, I was the only one there.
For days I'd been in a ferment, like the vinegar barrel when the cider boils, or the yeast jar when it sets too close to the stove.

To have Laddie and the Princess separated was dreadful, and knowing him as I did, I knew he never really would get over it.

I had tried to help once, and what I had done started things going wrong; no wonder I was slow about deciding what to try next.