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“Here, here! You mustn’t do that,” Billy gently coaxed, rising and taking her hand. “You’ll make me draw salt water, too. And it don’t help, you know. I’ll tell you what—you can work some, gather the flowers. I’ll show you how. Mother puts ’em fresh in all the rooms for Sunday.” He bustled her up the terrace steps, brought scissors and basket, and, starting her on her pleasant task, began to mow the lawn. “Isobel, play one of your pieces, let’s see how your recital helped you to-day.” A faint sound caught his ear, as of clinking coins and soft voices. People there! He had thought it before, now he was certain. Were not both brothers away?.

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He held out his hand, but the little girl put hers behind her. “I’ll come by myself,” she said with dignity. Whatever happened that dreadful man should not touch her. “Don’t feel so bad, Chick,” he comforted; “it won’t bring them to life, and it hurts you. That’s why you don’t grow faster; your feelings eats up all your blood.” The travellers passed on; he righted his wheel and began his slow, painful way home. It was still cloudy and the welcome darkness setting in early, shrouded him as he slipped down the least public streets and alleys to his own side gate. He put his wheel away, fed his chickens,—though they had gone to roost,—went to the cellar and brought meat and milk for dog and cats, and reconnoitred the way to the Fo’castle. “I’m so sorry our afternoon has been spoiled,” she apologized. “While we wait we might as well have a cup of tea. Maria, rinse the silver teapot with boiling water.”.