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The work went on, each length at the first possible opportunity resuming its state of strict neutrality and refusing to be drawn into negotiations. Molly enjoyed the attentions of Betty and contentedly chewed her cud. Whenever Betty leaned forward to caress the camel, Molly rolled out some square inches of tongue and licked the glowing cheek of her little mistress. An altogether adorable if somewhat familiar camel was the old black cow. Moses was whistling a dismal discordant air in the backyard when the voice of his mother smote his ears..

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Another sound in a somewhat higher key was heard. Moses had simply modulated in his domestic symphony of labor from a major task to a minor one. As a change and refreshing recreation, Moses was allowed to turn the small wheat-mill. Ninety soul-stirring turns it required to empty the hopper once, and he must turn out enough flour for a batch of bread. His youthful soul was in revolt at such servitude. He had no sympathy to squander on the children of Israel in bondage vile. Making bricks for Pharoah was infantile amusement compared to his labor. “They’re great frauds, those aristocratic cats of sister’s,” Billy explained; “not a bit of use. They won’t fight, and—” In the matter of the next adventure, Moses’ feet were fast approaching that degree known as freezing point. But spurred on by the resolute will of his sister he rose to the occasion of a chariot race, adapted from “Ben Hur.” They had never forgotten the thrill they had experienced when one day at Mrs. Mifsud’s house the nephew of that good lady, with city-bred art, had recited in melodramatic fashion “Ben Hur’s Chariot Race.” “Good hearts need no fairy wings,” Mrs. Bennett replied to Billy while she smiled at the little girl. “Jean told her mother about our May Nell, and Mrs. Hammond came over with a generous lot of outgrown things.”.