"Good-bye, I'm off," he shouted, resisting the impulse to catch her in his arms and kiss her.
"Good-bye, I'm so glad, and so sorry," she exclaimed with a shadowed face.
"I wish I had something to give you to remember me by," he said suddenly.
"I think you have given me lots of things."
"Come, Hol, don't stand there all day," expostulated his brother from the sleigh.
"Good-bye, then," said Hollis.
"Good-bye," said Marjorie. And then he was off and the bells were jingling down the road and she had not even cautioned him "Be a good boy." She wished she had had something to give him to remember her by; she had never done one thing to help him remember her and when he came back in years and years they would both be grown up and not know each other.
"Marjie, you are taking too thick peels," remonstrated her mother. For the next half hour she conscientiously refrained from thinking of any thing but the apples.
"Oh, Marjie," exclaimed Linnet, "peel one whole, be careful and don't break it, and throw it over your right shoulder and see what letter comes."
"Why?" asked Magorie, selecting a large, fair apple to peel.