"John
Ja-a-y!" The beech woods opposite threw back the echo of her voice,
sweet and clear,--"Ja-a-y!"
"Heah I come, Mammy!" cried a panting voice. "I was jus' turnin' the
grine-stone for Uncle Billy."
She looked at him suspiciously an instant, then handed him the basket.
"Take these aigs ovah to Miss Hallie," she ordered, "and mind you be
quickah'n you was last time, or they might hatch befo' you get there."
"Law now, Mammy!" said John Jay, with a grin. He snatched at the basket,
impatient to be off, for while standing before her he had kept
scratching his right shoulder with his left hand; not that there was any
need to do so, but it gave him an excuse for holding together the jagged
edges of a great tear in his new shirt. He was afraid it might be
discovered before he could get away.
It was one of John Jay's peculiarities that in going on an errand he
always chose the most roundabout route. Now, instead of following the
narrow footpath that made a short cut through the cool beech woods, he
went half a mile out of his way, along the sunny turnpike.
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