CHAPTER 1.IV.
"Wait for me, Isa-bel! Kezia, wait for me!" There was poor little Lottie, left behind again, because she found it so fearfully hard to get over the stile by herself.

When she stood on the first step her knees began to wobble; she grasped the post.

Then you had to put one leg over.

But which leg?
She never could decide.

And when she did finally put one leg over with a sort of stamp of despair--then the feeling was awful.