"I dunno. He ain't to the store."
William strode off across the field, and he searched through the
house with an angry stamping and banging of doors, but he could not
find his father or the doughnuts. "Father!" he called, in an angry
shout, standing in the doorway, "Father!" But there was no reply, and
he went back to the others with the jug of sweetened water. Rebecca
watched him with furtive, anxious eyes, but he avoided looking at
her. When he passed her a tumbler of sweetened water she took it and
thanked him fervently, but he did not seem to heed her at all.
After dinner they played romping games under the trees--hunt the
slipper, and button, and Copenhagen. Mrs. Barnard and two other women
had come over to see the festivity, and they sat at a little distance
with Mrs. Berry, awkwardly disposed against the trunks of trees, with
their feet tucked under their skirts to keep them from the damp
ground.
Copenhagen was the favorite game of the young people, and they played
on and on while the afternoon deepened. Clinging to the rope they
formed a struggling ring, looping this way and that way as the
pursuers neared them. Their laughter and gay cries formed charming
discords; their radiant faces had the likeness of one family of
flowers, through their one expression. The wind blew harder; the
girls' muslin skirts clung to their limbs as they moved against it,
and flew out around their heels in fluttering ruffles.
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