What's the matter ?" asked Tom, throwing down his book with a yawn that threatened dislocation.
"I 'm afraid I can't go to Polly's," answered Maud, disconsolately.
"Of course you can't; it 's snowing hard, and father won't be home with the carriage till this evening.

What are you always cutting off to Polly's for ?" "I like it; we have such nice times, and Will is there, and we bake little johnny-cakes in the baker before the fire, and they sing, and it is so pleasant." "Warbling johnny-cakes must be interesting.

Come and tell me all about it." "No, you 'll only laugh at me." "I give you my word I won't, if I can help it; but I really am dying of curiosity to know what you do down there.

You like to hear secrets, so tell me yours, and I 'll be as dumb as an oyster." "It is n't a secret, and you would n't care for it.

Do you want another pillow ?" she added, as Tom gave his a thump.
"This will do; but why you women always stick tassels and fringe all over a sofa-cushion, to tease and tickle a fellow, is what I don't understand." "One thing that Polly does Sunday nights, is to take Will's head in her lap, and smooth his forehead.