Then she fancied herself saying airily (she knew _just_ how she used to say it), "The _little_ things, my dear, are the _only_ things!" and then she laughed aloud at the very funniness of it.
"Hut! tut!" said Farmer Hartley, looking up from his paper with a smile.
"What's all this?
Are ye keepin' all the jokes to yerself, Huldy ?" "It is only my letter that is so funny," replied Hilda.

"I don't believe it would seem so funny to you, Farmer Hartley, because you don't know the writer.

But have you finished your paper, and are you ready for Robin Hood ?" "Wal, I am, Huldy!" said the good farmer, laying aside his paper and rubbing his hands with an air of pleasurable anticipation.

"'Pears to me we left that good-lookin' singin' chap--what was his name ?" "Allan-a-Dale!" said Hilda, smiling.
"Ah!" said the farmer; "Allan-a-Dale.

'Pears to me we left him in rayther a ticklish situation." "Oh, but it comes out all right!" cried Hilda, joyously, rising to fetch the good brown book which she loved.