Excerpt from Heart Stories<br><br>Blushing and chuckling at his own temerity, he drew the light waggon up, then dumped it back into the swimming hole with a force which threatened to break a spring. It's one of two things, the blackbird cocked his head knowingly. To-morrow I get fun enough to last me the year or I waste my day. He hoped nothing would turn up to interfere with the holiday; he also hoped his mother would not get talking about Ed. At breakfast, and cry into her teacup, like she did Christmas and Easter. He was sick of hearing plaints about the absence' of his oldest brother. If Ed. Was too busy having a good time and making money to come and see the folks, why let him. Who cared? Not Joe - only when his mother's eyes filled up and ran over, as they often did, he always forgot the dignity supposed to hedge his seventeen years, and cried, too. It was aggravating. Ed. Might write anyway. A picture postcard cost only a cent, and held only a line. Ed. Might do that much for the credit of the family.<br><br>About the Publisher<br><br>Forgotten Books publishes hundreds of thousands of rare and classic books. Find more at www.forgottenbooks.com<br><br>This book is a reproduction of an important historical work. Forgotten Books uses state-of-the-art technology to digitally reconstruct the work, preserving the original format whilst repairing imperfections present in the aged copy. In rare cases, an imperfection in the original, such as a blemish or missing page, may be replicated in our edition. We do, however, repair the vast majority of imperfections successfully; any imperfections that remain are intentionally left to preserve the state of such historical works.