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Her breakfast finished, Betty sought the company of Moses, who was in a small shed adjoining the kitchen. He was piling some fire-wood he had carried in from the yard. “Flash has cake, Sir Thomas cheese,” Edith explained, giving each his coveted bit. They took the morsels from her fingers, ate them delicately, and mewed once. “That’s ‘Thank you,’” Edith interpreted. “You know that bad, old, half-tailed Tom that whips every cat in town but Geewhillikins and Flash and Sir Thomas—”.
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“Ma! Mamma Bennett,” he burst out as he banged open the door; “she’s coming,—our little earthquake girl! The cutest kid,—not so big as the twins, but stylisher in the face.” The magic name won the day. Bess was ever dreaming of the land of mystery, whose pictured daughters of old she resembled; and the chance to masquerade in its atmosphere lured her. He was standing disconsolate, looking up the street for stragglers, when his mother came in again. Moses’ teeth chattered. It was not cold, but wash-day meant to the unhappy boy a dismal round of duties..
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