He cast a side glance at the kitchen window where the Kid stood with a large slice of bread and chokecherry jam balanced on his palm, and on his face a look of mental distress bordered with more jam.

Luck nodded and waved his hand, and went in where the Little Doctor stood waiting for him with a certain ominous quiet in her manner.

Luck shook back his heavy mane of hair that was graying prematurely, squared his shoulders, and then held out his hand meekly, palm upward.

Boys learn that pose in school, you know.
"Oh, for pity's sake! If you go and make me laugh--and I am mad enough at you, Luck Lindsay, to--to blister that palm! If you weren't any bigger than Claude, I'd shake you and stand you in a corner on one foot." "Listen.

Shake me, anyway.