“I love, thou lovest, he loves,” said Clarence, scornfully, in answer to this preposterous question.,
“Personally, I should be agreeably disposed to requesting Mr. Wopp to officiate,” answered the lady addressed.,
Her wardrobe was a heavy drain on Edith’s purse, yet the young teacher delighted almost as a mother in the dainty garments that won her to extravagance.,
“My conscience! How lovely and stylish you look!” The child, accustomed to elegant dress, praised with discriminating eyes.
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“Missee Lancastler, she say you heap good show. Now you heap hungly. You catchee him plenty glub.” With that he uncovered a treat that made them forget the circus. They munched the sandwiches, the luscious fruit, candy, and cake, and other good things from Mrs. Lancaster’s generous pantry, and discussed the procession; voted Mrs. Lancaster a trump; and decided to have a circus every year.,
Billy took the can she held toward him, and made a face that was half fun, half discontent, yet not unloving. As his mother turned indoors he noticed again that she was pale, and that her shoulders drooped; and a sudden heat rose in his heart against the widowhood and poverty that made it necessary for her to work so hard. When he grew to be a man, he told himself, he would buy her a diamond ring and a silk dress; and she should sit all day in the big rocking chair and work no more.,
The blandishments of soda water fountains, candy stores, and other boyish temptations, found no victim in Billy. But if Mr. Cooper, the tinshop man, had driven hard bargains he would have bankrupted the boy. As it was his weekly allowance suffered in spite of Mr. Cooper’s generosity and Billy’s free access to a rich scrap heap at the rear of the big shop where everything, one would say, in tin and iron was made, from well pipe, tanks, and boilers, to tin wings for Edith’s fairies in the opera.,
Mrs. Wopp was much too energetically engaged to enter into fuller argument. She busied herself preparing the tubs for rinsing, singing in a high tremolo, “Shall we gather at the river?”
The cheerful clatter of knives and forks against Mrs. Wopp’s best blue willow plates was a gentle accompaniment to the ripple of laughing apology that Nell offered to the victim. Any constraint that might have been felt hitherto among the circle, decreased perceptibly as the rancher wiped the sweet syrupy drops from his face.
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“Maria, where is St. Elmo?” asked Mrs. Mifsud, as with flushed face she basted some fowls in the oven.
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Halin-Chen Response,
>“Yes; but—oh, Billy, it’s awful to have to grow up and be proper. I begged mamma not to put my dresses down, but I’m past thirteen, and big as she is. And—”
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