flinched; to Della it was a futile check, a pebble under the wave. She
laid her balls calmly aside. Some day she would whittle them into
shape; for there were always coming to Della days full of roomy leisure
and large content. Meanwhile apples would serve her turn,--good alike
to draw a weary mind out of its channel or teach the shape of spheres.
And so, with two russets for balls and the clothes-slice for a mallet
(the heavy sledge-hammer having failed), Della serenely, yet in
triumph, played her first game against herself.

"Don't you drive over them wickets!" she called imperiously, when Eben
came up from the lot in his dingle cart.

"Them what?" returned he, and Della had to go out to explain. He looked
at them gravely; hers had been a ragged piece of work.

"What under the sun'd you do that for?" he inquired. "The young ones
wouldn't turn their hand over for't They ain't big enough."

"Well, I be," said Della briefly. "Don't you drive over 'em."

Eben looked at her and then at his path to the barn, and he turned his
horse aside.

Thereafter, until we got used to it, we found a vivid source of
interest in seeing Della playing croquet, and always playing alone.
That was a very busy summer, because the famous drought came then, and
water had to be carried for weary rods from spring and river. Sometimes
Della did not get her playtime till three in the afternoon, sometimes
not till after dark; but she was faithful to her joy. The croquet
ground suffered varying fortunes. It might happen that the balls were