He sees their white dresses among the firs.

Run, Molly! run, Ruth! Spare no expense.

If your new black sash catches in the briers, let it catch; heed it not, for he is making wonderful play with that lame leg up the hill.

It is an even race.

Now for the stone steps! How many more there are than there ever were before! Quick through the wicket, and up through the little kitchen-garden.