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“Anything else you can do better than a girl?” she jeered, good-naturedly. “This shore has been a toilin’ day fer me,” sighed Mrs. Wopp, as she opened the oven door and revealed a tempting array of loaves, their brown domes swelling up and over the sides of shining black pans. “But the girls and small fry can’t come in on that. Besides, that little city kid’ll be lonesome if I leave her.”.
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“Betty dimples in an’ out, like Mar’s dough,” he remarked, joyously, “she’s shore gittin’ better.” “My conscience! How lovely and stylish you look!” The child, accustomed to elegant dress, praised with discriminating eyes. “Did you forget their breakfast, Billy?” the child questioned earnestly. “She has a music class in Loma; and it isn’t dreamland, either, teaching; but she has to earn grub for me, sister does.” The frank statement of a truth he had grown accustomed to this morning roused a feeling of shame, and he gazed steadily at his plate..
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