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She emerged from the house her hair coiled on the top of her head and decorated with a strip of shining silver from an empty biscuit tin. Thus had she seen a circus lady dressed on one never-to-be-forgotten day. Around her small body was draped a yellow silk shawl of Mrs. Wopps. Her feet were encased in a pair of Ebenezer Wopp’s reddest socks, bound on by bright green ribbon ripped from her winter hat. From her fair hair floated a white aigret made of chicken feathers hastily wired together. Moses needed no aigret as a strand of red hair stood upright from the crown of his head. “Betty’s not goin’ to no kingdom come yet,” assured Mrs. Wopp, her optimism rising like a star of the first magnitude to lighten the darkness of her son’s midnight sky. Ladies cross your lily-white hands.
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Jean, too, crossed the little bridge, climbed the fence, mounted her wheel, and rolled off down the dusty road. “Now, Clarence, recite William Tell for us.” Mrs. Crump put her hand on her son’s shoulder and turned him away from the bookcase which had been serving as a screen for the boy’s laughing countenance, “You must help Moses enjoy his visit.” CHAPTER VII.—THE LITTLE CHURCH IN THE COULEE. She was happy and the time passed unnoticed till she had finished, and put the food back in the pail, when a queer, dizzy feeling came upon her and she sank down on one of the rugs..
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