Summary

James Otis Aunt Hannah and Seth

Seth muttered to himself, as he turned toward the sink, over which hung a towel so white that he could hardly believe he would be allowed to dry his face and hands with it.
He was alone in the kitchen. Snip, having had a most satisfactory breakfast of what he must have believed was real cream, had run out of doors to chase a leaf blown by the wind, and Gladys was close behind, alternately urging him in the pursuit, and showering praises upon “the sweetest dog that ever lived.”
“Folks that live like this must be mighty rich,” Seth thought, as he plunged his face into a basin of clear water.
Source: Gutenberg

James Otis Aunt Hannah and Seth

It was most refreshing to Seth, this halt beneath the shade of the bushes where the brook sang such a song as he had never heard before, and despite the age of the cake his hunger was appeased. Save for the haunting fear that the officers of the law might be close upon his heels, he would have been very happy, and even under the painful circumstances attending his departure, he enjoyed in a certain degree the unusual scene before him.
Source: Gutenberg

James Otis Aunt Hannah and Seth

Seth was awakened next morning by Aunt Hannah’s voice, as she called gently:
“It’s time to get up, my dear. The sun is out looking for boys an’ dogs, an’ you mustn’t disappoint him.”
Snip ran eagerly down the stairs as if to greet some one for whom he had a great affection, and Seth heard the little woman say to him:
“I really believe Gladys was in the right when she said I would come to like you almost as much as if you were a cat. Do you want a saucer of milk?”
Source: Gutenberg

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