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Yet her hands dropped, and she sighed deeply. All the world about her seemed to be—how can one put it?—in wrappers, like a house when people leave it in the summer. If my conjectures are right, this boy would stay there indefinitely. I hope you will always remember——” Annabel held out her hands with a little cry of protest. A piece of seaweed touched her hand, tender and green. Having secured this,—for he was almost famished,—he said that he had lost a hammer and wished to purchase one. . “John! Welcome! Happy Thanksgiving!” Cathy cried, ushering him deeper into the house.
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