Certainly they were neglecting a prize who had persistently flaunted himself at them.

They notably lacked enterprise.
Down over the grassy slope of West Hill they went, the boy still well in the rear; you never could tell what might happen; and so came to Fair Street across shadows that lay long to the east.

Newbern was still slumberous.

Smoke issued from a chimney here and there, but mostly the town would partake of a cold supper.

The boy came beside his father, with Frank, the dog, again on his leash of frayed rope.