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“Yes, Mosey, I jist want to go to my mornin’-glory garding to tell it good-night.” She rubbed her sleepy tear-stained eyes. For a moment Betty stood in an attitude of dejection, but suddenly her face brightened. The muscles at the corners of her mouth stiffened, her little pointed chin was thrust forward ever so slightly and a look came into her brown eyes which said plainly, “Never you mind, Moses Wopp, I’ll get money and more than two bits for my missionary box.” “P’raps I’ll hinder more than help,” Howard answered, grasping Mrs. Wopp’s outstretched hand and looking questioningly at Nell..

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“Feel that muscle,” he said a moment later; bending his arm, and pressing her fingers to it. “That’s got to grow by a broom or hoe, something besides football!” When the party reached the house and St. Elmo had been received with every manifestation of joy, Mr. Wopp in one burst of eloquence explained how his boy Moses had found him. Moses, the hero of the hour, stood abashed before the encomiums of Mrs. Mifsud. He twirled his hat at a fearful rate on his doubled fist, standing awkwardly on one foot the while. Locked up! The child’s heart beat stiflingly; yet she did not cry out; she thought self-control would win her more favor than tears. “You’d best go an’ take her hoss, Moses,” directed Mr. Wopp. Then raising his voice he called, “Go right on into the house, Mis’ Mifsud. Lize has jist gone in from the garden.”.