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“Why, you see,” Billy hesitated, for he was modest, “sister has a class of us heathen boys, and—well, you see, it’s this way; sister says,—she’s partial, you know,—she says I have influence; if I don’t giggle the others won’t, and she gets on O. K.” “O, Mar, won’t the heathens’ faces shine, too!” exclaimed Betty, joyously, as the coins slipped into her box with an opulent clatter. Discarded shoe-laces, rope and trunk-straps came hastily into requisition. The vociferations of Moses were so severe on his vocal chords that he found it necessary to visit the pump..

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“Don’t Job look jist like Mariar Mifsud goin’ to meetin’,” gurgled Betty. The child had been content to extract but fleeting moments of sweetness from the confection and as the weeks passed had in the time-honored custom kept the canes shining. Thus accumulated quite a bagful of the tempting sweets. These she sold to a haughty plutocrat at school for a dime. This coin of the realm made a pleasing clatter in her wooden box; but she reflected, not without some degree of logic, that ten cents would not go very far in carrying salvation to the suffering heathen in Africa. Not all at once but slowly, with mother’s tact, Mrs. Bennett won the little heart to partial peace; and when the gate clicked, and Billy’s voice was heard, she was almost gay. “I must be laughing when they come in,” she whispered, “so they won’t see the tears in my eyes and think I am unthankful.” “Put a li’l shoe-black on then an’ that’ll make me dark again,” advised Betty serenely..