"Why, you must learn at what; that's the game. You must fight; just as I fight you. You ought to touch my ball now, if you can. I don't believe you can. You might try."
Matilda tried, and hit it. The game went on prosperously. The sun got lower, and the sunbeams came more scattering, and the breeze just stirred over the lawn, not enough to bend the little short blades of grass. Mrs. Laval's visitors went away, and she came out on the verandah to look at the children; they were too much engaged to look at her. At last the hard-fought battle came to an end. Norton brought out another plate of strawberries for himself along with Matilda's, and the two sat down on the bank under the locust trees to eat them. The sun was near going down beyond the mountains by this time, and his setting rays changed the purple mist into a bath of golden haze.
"How nice and cold these are," said Matilda.
"They have been in the ice. That makes things cold," observed Norton.
"And being warm one's self makes them seem colder," said Matilda.
"Why, are you warm, Pink?"
"Yes, indeed. I have had to fight you so hard, you know."
"You did very well," said Norton, in a satisfied tone.
"Norton, how pretty it all is to-night."
Norton ate strawberries.