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“Stop!” his upheld warning hand said to May Nell. He found his knife, cut his lashings, and beckoned to her vehemently. He waited only for the crash of glass and sash, when he threw himself outstretched on the ground, and pushed the board hard against the lower edge of the window frame.,

Billy had intended naming it The Jean, but Charley had stood for Queen Bess, Harold didn’t like either name, and George and Jimmy had objected to “girl kid names, anyway.” They had, however, unanimously compromised on The Edith, for Billy’s sister was adored privately by all of his older friends, adored openly and “tagged” by the little ones. Edith, since May Nell’s coming, suggested her name. The little girl agreed if it could be Ellen; Billy added “Fair” with her permission; and this name he painted over each paddle wheel with no opposition from the others.,

He woke early the next morning. This was rare for him; he usually slept like a bear in midwinter. Perhaps the creaking of the windmill all through the night made his slumber light. Another noise had disturbed him, the sewing machine. Its whirr had come up to him from the open window of the living-room. He knew mother and sister were sewing hard, that on the morrow the poor little stranger might be suitably clad. He had brought upon them this extra work! And this was only the beginning. If the child’s mother was not found they must buy clothes as well as food; and this would take a lot of his sister’s money.,

Norah Bliggins carried in a little basket several carrots of various sizes and complexions, all carefully scrubbed as became respectable members of the vegetable family, and shining as sweet and clean as the face of the child. These must have put to shame their forked brother, for that perturbed carrot rolled heavily to a corner and hid his grimy visage.

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“And could he beat the old gentleman?” inquired Nell Gordon, vastly entertained.,

May Nell ran and hugged Mrs. Bennett, and Edith and Billy in turn, nestling afterward in her father’s arms.,

Now in the silence and fragrance his tightened springs began to relax. Presently he found himself in a dream of possibilities of the island,—Ellen’s Isle, he always called it; of what might be done with the smooth places in the river, the hills, Sunol Creek not far away, boiling and tumbling in boisterous beauty; of hidden nooks, piled boulders, and tiny meadows, vine-enclosed and flower-fragrant.,

“Naw Nosey,” he retorted, “there ain’t no bun to break in two, the dorg is outside the bun already.”