"I tell you what, Ruth," said Mark, after they had read this item
for a dozen times or more, "we are somebodies after all, and don't
you forget it. We own a plantation, we do, and have disposed of
our PROPERTY in this place."

As Mark looked from the horse-block on which he was sitting at the
little weather-beaten house, nestling in the shadow of its
glorious trees, which, with its tiny grass-plot in front, was all
the property Mr. Elmer had ever owned, he flung up his hat in
ecstasy at the idea of their being property owners, and tumbled
over backward in trying to catch it as it fell.

"What I like," said Ruth, who stood quietly beside him, "is the
part about us being interesting children, and to think that the
girls and boys at school will miss us."

"Yes, and won't they open their eyes when we write them letters
about the alligators, and the orange groves, and palm-trees, and
bread-fruit, and monkeys, and Indians, and pirates? Whoop-e-e-e!
what fun we are going to have!"

"Bread-fruit, and monkeys, and pirates, and Indians in Florida!
what are you thinking of, Mark Elmer?"

"Well, I guess 'Osceola the Seminole' lived in Florida, and it's
tropical, and pirates and monkeys are tropical too, ain't they?"

Just then the tea-bell rang, and the children ran in to take the
paper which they had been reading to their father, and to eat