"Thomas thinks she's the eighth wonder of the world," said his father; "she can just wind him around her little finger."
"She's windin' us all," replied his wife, "an' we're standin' grateful-like, waitin' to be wound."
"That's so—all except Austin. Austin's mad as a hatter at what she got him to do Sunday morning; he doesn't like her, Mary."
"Humph!" said his wife.
CHAPTER III
"Good-bye, Mrs. Gray, I'm going for a ride."
"Good-bye, dearie; sure it ain't too hot?"
"Not a bit; it's rained so hard all this week that I haven't had a bit of exercise, and I'm getting cross."
"Cross! I'd like to see you once! It still looks kinder thunderous to me off in the West, so don't go far."
"I won't, I promise; I'll be back by supper-time. There's Austin, just up from the hayfield—I'll get him to saddle for me." And Sylvia ran quickly towards the barn.