Most women kept their rag balls in a basket when they braided, but Ann Edwards worked always in a sort of untidy fury.
Jerome went out, little hungry boy with the winter chill again creeping through his veins, got the spade out of the barn, and set to work in the garden.

The garden lay on the sunny slope of a hill which rose directly behind the house; when his spade struck a stone Jerome would send it rolling out of his way to the foot of the hill.

He got considerable amusement from that, and presently the work warmed him.
The robins were singing all about.

Every now and then one flew out of the sweet spring distance, lit, and silently erected his red breast among some plough ridges lower down.

It was like a veritable transition from sound to sight.
Below where Jerome spaded, and upon the left, stretched long waving plough ridges where the corn was planted.