Run off outside an' play with thy rope." Mistress Mary felt a little awkward as she went out of the room.
Yorkshire people seemed strange, and Martha was always rather a puzzle to her.

At first she had disliked her very much, but now she did not.
The skipping-rope was a wonderful thing.

She counted and skipped, and skipped and counted, until her cheeks were quite red, and she was more interested than she had ever been since she was born.

The sun was shining and a little wind was blowing--not a rough wind, but one which came in delightful little gusts and brought a fresh scent of newly turned earth with it.

She skipped round the fountain garden, and up one walk and down another.