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Her wardrobe was a heavy drain on Edith’s purse, yet the young teacher delighted almost as a mother in the dainty garments that won her to extravagance. Supper passed. Edith went to church, Billy to keep an appointment with his teacher; and the spring twilight settled down over the room. Mrs. Bennett knew this would be a trying hour, and hastened her work, inventing some light task for May Nell; hastened also the errand to her own room. Yet though she was gone but a moment, on returning a sob greeted her from the cuddled heap on the couch. In the Crump household, Clarence stood for all that was brilliant and intellectual, while Isobel stood for all that was fairy-like and charming. Moses felt himself a cipher, of no account whatever, in this wonderful home. He would need an extra administration of sympathy from Betty on his return. He thought at that moment very tenderly of the great brown eyes that “looked like they loved everybody.”.

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Edith worked very hard. She called her operetta “The Triumph of Flora.” The words were her own, written hurriedly and set to familiar though classic airs. Yet many of the daintiest, most tripping melodies she wrote herself. The sorrows of humanity had winged her brain and dipped her pen in harmonies, that she might assuage them. “Yes, yes; take us to the park, papa,” piped one half of the Siamese Twins. “Billy, I don’t like the look of your eyes; you’re reading too much at night,” his mother said one evening when he was helping with the dishes. “You must go to bed earlier.” “Then I’ll be a—a preacher if I ought to. But gee! it’s rocky!”.