"Why will he object?"

"On account of what you said about God at our house," I told him.
"And then, too, father's people were from England, and he says
real Englishmen have their doors wide open, and welcome people
who offer friendliness."

Mr. Pryor hit his horse an awful blow. It reared and went racing
up the road until I thought it was running away. I could see I
had made him angry enough to burst. Mother always tells me not
to repeat things; but I'm not smart enough to know what to say,
so I don't see what is left but to tell what mother, or father,
or Laddie says when grown people ask me questions.

I went home, but every one was too busy even to look at me, so I
took Bobby under my arm, hunted father, and told him all about
the morning. I wondered what he would think. I never found out.

He wouldn't say anything, so Bobby and I went across the lane,
and climbed the gate into the orchard to see if Hezekiah were
there and wanted to fight. He hadn't time to fight Bobby because
he was busy chasing every wild jay from our orchard. By the time
he got that done, he was tired, so he came hopping along on
branches above us as Bobby and I went down the west fence beside
the lane.

If I had been compelled to choose the side of our orchard I liked
best, I don't know which I would have selected. The west side--
that is, the one behind the dooryard--was running over with
interesting things. Two gates opened into it, one from near each