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“Can’t stop. It’s private anyway.” He waved his hand, ran across the foot-bridge and down the road, dodged into the brush for his wheel; and in a moment they heard his shout as he sped by toward town. Betty Wopp was gambolling along the road with other little school-girls and heard the jeers addressed to the wretched boy. The penetrating sense of Moses’ need of her brought her to a halt. Indignation made her tight little braids of hair assume an aspect as terrific as Medusa’s snaky coils. She ran lightly up to Moses and walked beside him. Betty staggered with her burden out into the garden to leave with her flowers the benediction of her presence and also to crave a few small favors for herself..
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He saw the men stop, draw apart, and look around. They discovered no one, but delayed their quarrel and hurried in the direction of the sound, exchanging short angry speeches as they ran. “But you haven’t told us what hurries you so,” Jean called, while Billy was already sprinting away. As Isobel seated herself on the piano-stool in compliance with her father’s wishes, her white-flounced dress billowed up around her, reminding Moses, even in his chaotic state of mind, of the delicious creamy meringue on a lemon pie. “I guess he didn’t say ‘lick,’ Billy.”.
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