Page:Emma Speed Sampson--The shorn lamb.djvu/60

56 a quiet, mirthless person who attended to his farming. He seldom mingled in the society of the county families. His sisters bored him intensely, and he, in turn, irritated them by his carelessness in dress and disregard to the niceties of life. As they sat waiting for Willie Bell to bring the mail, Spot approached. He was a handsome young giant with the golden Taylor hair and blue, blue eyes, but his mouth was sullen and his expression discontented.

Above all things, Spottswood dreaded being corrected and being made game of. His sisters were constantly doing the first and his father seldom addressed a remark to him that the young man did not feel had a latent sting of humor.

"There's a scraper, Spot," suggested Myra, looking meaningly at his shoes caked with clay and pointing to the old iron scraper on the lower step of the porch.

Spot said nothing, but looked even more sullen and sank down on the lowest step.

"We have just been discussing the propagation of the species," said Major Taylor, looking appreciatively at his son's manly proportions, disclosed to good advantage in a loose blue chambray shirt open at the throat, and khaki