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Mrs. Bennett continued her gentle, even strokes; bent and kissed him softly before replying. “Duty looks narrow only when it opposes inclination, my child. Selfish people hate duty; but those who live the longest and best lives could tell you that every victory duty wins brings an ever-increasing joy.” “Oh, no; there aren’t any. Billy says so, and he knows. He knows, too, that there are other people here beside the Italians.” “I’ll get word from them in the morning. Don’t worry any more, but rest; sleep if you can. You can’t help them till you have helped yourself.”.

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“Can’t I see the faywies some time, Betty?” asked St. Elmo. “Something my mother sent yours. You mustn’t touch it,” he warned, as Billy made a reach for it. “I was to land this safe in Mrs. Bennett’s hands; and here goes!” He sprang from Billy’s outreached arms, ran into the house and out again, before Billy had time to resume his mowing. Mr. Wells the clergyman was of English birth, very conservative and inclined to be shy. He was unusually tall with broad shoulders. Mrs. Wopp once said of him, “When Mr. Wells gits his gownd on, he’s the hull lan’scape.” The deeply pious lady seldom criticized things ecclesiastical; but she had “feelin’s that ef Ebenezer Wopp bed of took to larnin’ like his Mar wished, he’d of looked amazin’ well in that pulpit, better nor Mr. Wells.” Billy ran off full of vague expectation born of his mother’s smile. No one in all the country round, not even Harold Prettyman, whose father had the finest farm in Vine County, had such a splendid place to play as the Bennetts’ back lot that sloped down to Runa Creek. As Billy slammed the gate and bounded out on a huge boulder that hung over the creek, a sounding cheer greeted him from below..