There had never been any lack of energy and industry in Burr to account for his flagging fortunes.

He arose betimes every morning.

Lot, standing well behind the dimity curtain, watched him flinging the snow aside like spray, his handsome face glowing like a rose.
"I suppose he is going to the party at the tavern to-night," Lot murmured.

Suddenly his face took on a piteous, wistful look like a woman's; tears stood in his blue eyes.

He doubled over with a violent fit of coughing, then went back to his chair and his book.
This party had been the talk of the village for several weeks.