IN WHICH THE SUMMER PASSES
Midsummer arrived, and David, healed of his wounds, pronounced himself as "strong as a cricketer." What he meant by that Hoyle could only conjecture, and, after much pondering, decided that his strength was now so great that should he desire to do so, he could leap into the air or jump long distances after the manner of crickets.
"You reckon you could jump as fer in one jump now as from here to t'other side the water trough yandah?" he asked one day, as they sat on the porch steps together.
"No, I don't reckon so," said David, laughing.
"Well, could you jump ovah this here house and the loom shed in one jump?"
"I don't reckon so."
"Be sensible, honey son. You mustn't 'low him to ax ye fool questions, Doctah. You knows they hain't nobody kin do such as that, Hoyle," called his mother from within.
"He has some idea in his head. What is it, brother Hoyle?"
"I heered you tellin' Cass 'at you was gettin' strong as one o' these here cricket bugs, an' I had one t'other day; he could jump as fer as cl'ar acrost the po'ch—and he was only 'bout a inch long—er less 'n a inch. I thought if brothah David was that strong, he could jump a heap."
David had comforted Hoyle for the loss of Cassandra from the home by explaining that they were now become brothers for the rest of their lives, and in order to give this assurance appreciable significance, he had taken the small chap to the circus and had treated him to pink lemonade and a toy balloon.