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They were a happy lot. Each held some high-sounding position, the name coined in Billy’s busy brain. His box of abused tools came forth; the much mended wheelbarrow, picks, shovels wobbly from use as well as abuse, improvised things that only an imagination as large as Billy’s could have named tools,—something for each one there. Confusion followed. Harry was struck with a great fear. Was she dead? He had never seen a girl do so before. Would they hang him? “Would you like to live in the city?”.
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Supper over and dishes hurried out of sight, the floor was once more cleared and the real business of the evening was resumed. “He ran up and touched noses with Tom like a Feegee Islander,—are they the people that touch noses for ‘How do you do?’” After supper, Betty was sought diligently, but without success. At last Moses discovered her underneath the huge red tablecloth that covered the dining-room table. She was sound asleep on the floor with Jethro in her arms and his head on her bosom. Her face was smeared with tear-stains. It was evident that great care had been exercised over Betty’s gift. She exclaimed joyously over a Cyclamen, whose pale pink blooms brought the flush of delight to her cheeks; a bag of peppermint bulls’ eyes elicited a like degree of appreciation..
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