MARGERY was sitting under the cherry tree with a certain air of
expectancy. She seemed to be waiting for something or some one. Willie
Jones's head popped over the back fence and Willie Jones himself, a tin
pail in one hand, dropped into the Blair yard and made for the cherry
tree. But Margery still gazed earnestly, tensely, into nothing. Willie
Jones, evidently, was not the object of her thoughts.
expectancy. She seemed to be waiting for something or some one. Willie
Jones's head popped over the back fence and Willie Jones himself, a tin
pail in one hand, dropped into the Blair yard and made for the cherry
tree. But Margery still gazed earnestly, tensely, into nothing. Willie
Jones, evidently, was not the object of her thoughts.
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