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“Well, I’ll be blowed, gosh! Mar’d larf to hear you tarlk. You’ll darn my socks, two bits or no two bits, ef Mar says.” St. Elmo cast about in his mind for some plausible explanation of his recent panic. It would never do to inform the world that he had been afraid of a mere turkey. “You’re George Rideout Smith’s kid, ain’t you?”.

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Next appeared Jethro in a high state of hilarity with a harness made of Moses’ skate-straps and with a tiny doll dressed to represent a monkey bound to his back. “Billy! Who could steal our little girl? I cannot think it. She’s gone with some of the children to watch the fire.” Mrs. Bennett’s words were braver than her face, for in her heart she felt Billy was right, though she wondered why. “Mudgie never saw any fairies,” replied Mrs. Mifsud, “But she is glad St. Elmo can see them.” He placed them before him, Rain and Storm, took his great golden horn of plenty under his arm, stepped on the wheeled board, signalled the super, and rolled on, driving the crouching pair in front of him with pelting showers’ of rose leaves, and landing at his station just as the chorus filed in. The gray pair threw their shrouding mantles over the truck, and still crouching pushed it out of sight; and the spectators, believing they had laughed in the wrong place, cheered vociferously, and never knew the difference..