Gemotions

The scent of freshly cut wood invigorated Amelia. She skipped out of her back door, a mischievous glint in her eyes. Her neighbor, old man Fitzwilliam, was meticulously measuring the distance for his new fence.

Amelia’s internal giggle threatened to escape. She found a rusty bucket and, whistling a jaunty tune, began filling it with pebbles, tossing them, one by one, over the fence line. Each 'plink' as the pebbles landed on the other side made her grin grow wider.

Fitzwilliam, finally noticing, scowled. “What in tarnation are you doing, girl?” he rasped. Amelia simply shrugged, her face a mask of innocence, and replied, "Making sure the ground is level, sir! For the fence, of course!"