Jamie trudged down the hill with a basket of blackberries which he had "picked all his ownself," as his scratched fingers and stained lips plainly testified.

Will and Geordie brought their puppies to beguile the weary hours, and the three elder lads called to discuss baseball, cricket, and kindred subjects, eminently fitted to remind the invalid of his privations.
Rose had gone to drive with Uncle Alec, who declared she was getting as pale as a potato sprout, living so much in a dark room.

But her thoughts were with her boy all the while, and she ran up to him the moment she returned, to find things in a fine state of confusion.
With the best intentions in life, the lads had done more harm than good, and the spectacle that met Nurse Rose's eye was a trying one.
The puppies were yelping, the small boys romping, and the big boys all talking at once; the curtains were up, the room close, berries scattered freely about, Mac's shade half off, his cheeks flushed, his temper ruffled, and his voice loudest of all as he disputed hotly with Steve about lending certain treasured books which he could no longer use.
Now Rose considered this her special kingdom, and came down upon the invaders with an energy which amazed them and quelled the riot at once.
They had never seen her roused before, and the effect was tremendous; also comical, for she drove the whole flock of boys out of the room like an indignant little hen defending her brood.

They all went as meekly as sheep; the small lads fled from the house precipitately, but the three elder ones only retired to the next room, and remained there hoping for a chance to explain and apologise, and so appease the irate young lady, who had suddenly turned the tables and clattered them about their ears.
As they waited, they observed her proceedings through the half-open door, and commented upon them briefly but expressively, feeling quite bowed down with remorse at the harm they had innocently done.
"She's put the room to rights in a jiffey.

What jacks we were to let those dogs in and kick up such a row," observed Steve, after a prolonged peep.
"The poor old Worm turns as if she was treading on him instead of cuddling him like a pussy cat.