Brooke looked up and said quickly, Young ladies in America love independence as much as their ancestors did, and are admired and respected for supporting themselves."
Brooke laid his book on her lap with an inviting smile.
Brooke made no comment as she returned the book to Meg, who said innocently, "I thought it was poetry." "Some of it is.
Brooke, as she paused, quite ignoring her many mistakes, and looking as if he did indeed love to teach.
Brooke looked so contented and cheerful that Meg was ashamed to lament her hard lot.
Brooke rather bitterly as he absently put the dead rose in the hole he had made and covered it up, like a little grave.
Brooke, looking cheerful again, but before he could finish his speech, Ned, mounted on the old horse, came lumbering up to display his equestrian skill before the young ladies, and there was no more quiet that day.