Apple-Blossom Land is the place to play it in, and this is Apple-Blossom
Land! And to think--to think that it is mine!"

"Why not? Why shouldn't what you want be yours? Heaven knows an
old house on a hilltop, with some twisted trees on the side and
cornfields at the back, isn't much to dance over; but things have in
them what we get out of them, and if you will stop hugging me and get me
something to sit on I will be obliged."

"Will the rug do?"

"Rug? How could I get up if I every got down? No. Get me a chair.
What are you out here for, anyhow? Bugs and bees and birds may like
such places, but being a mere human being I prefer indoors."

"Then we will go in. I came out here so as to be not at home if any one
came up to see me."

"Hiding, are you? If you don't want to see people, why see them?" She
waved her turkey-wing fan inquiringly. "Nonsense such as this will force
you on the roof, if you'd say your prayers in private, and you're making
a bad beginning. Have you got that list of the councilmen? I want to see
it again."

Mary Cary picked up her writing-materials, crumbled the bread and
threw it to the birds, and, with arm in Miss Gibbie's, turned toward the
house.

"It's on the library table. I've seen every one of them. I'm sure it's
going to be all right."