Go and tell him all about it.

Go, go! run!" cried Tant Sannie.
But the boy neither quickened nor slackened his pace, and passed sullenly round the back of the wagon-house.
Books have been thrown at other heads before and since that summer afternoon, by hands more white and delicate than those of the Boer-woman; but whether the result of the process has been in any case wholly satisfactory, may be questioned.

We love that with a peculiar tenderness, we treasure it with a peculiar care, it has for us quite a fictitious value, for which we have suffered.

If we may not carry it anywhere else we will carry it in our hearts, and always to the end.
Bonaparte Blenkins went to pick up the volume, now loosened from its cover, while Tant Sannie pushed the stumps of wood further into the oven.

Bonaparte came close to her, tapped the book knowingly, nodded, and looked at the fire.