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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. She clapped him into her own warm bed, and incredibly soon things were sizzling over the alcohol lamp. Moses, his feelings by this time wrought to a state of down-right rebellion, grasped a pail in either hand and sought the peaceful atmosphere of the river..
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“Great Scott, boy! We’ll have to hurry. We must get up there before the fire gets down. Do you know the shortest way?” “Oh go on Betty, a daddy-long-legs’d die of starvin’ on what you eat.” The pianist took a long look at Nell who had been visibly affected by his playing. Misgivings that date back to Eden were leaping into life in his breast. He had been in love more times than he could count, but here was the girl after all. He began a Scherzo of his own composition. Youth gathering flowers at the open mouth of a volcano. The melody was born to live forever. He was a genius. Now Nell knew it and her soul worshipped genius. Howard Eliot was far from her thoughts as she listened to the enchanting chain of melodies that poured forth. George nudged Jimmy. “Hit again, Sour. Come on.” The two boys went out, mysteriously embarrassed..
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