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Upstairs the lightning filled Betty’s room with a weird intermittent radiance. The child had become increasingly drowsy and asked Howard to sing her to sleep. She clapped her hands. “Oh, I’m glad you like fairies, too. Do you know about Bagdad and Semiramide and Good King Arthur and Ivanhoe, and all the other beautiful things in the world?” she asked, breathlessly. “I am not going to let you see any more compositions,” exclaimed Nell, “You are just making fun of my poor children.”.
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The broad shaft of sunlight that flooded the dining-room where Nell Gordon sat was suddenly darkened. Looking up she saw the tall straight figure of Howard Eliot at the doorway. “Yes, Mr. Brown,” he answered, keeping his face from sight. “Billy Boy, it’s fine! It’s splendid! But it’s so big I’m afraid Buzz will be scared.” “Sure!” Billy assented, heartily. “I take it back about old Sir Thomas; I guess they’re equal partners, after all.”.
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