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Every back bent a little lower. Every face flushed a little rosier under its coat of grime. Praise from Billy was all they asked.,
“I c’d eat a rhindoceros,” he confided to Clarence.,
“Jeth could whip your ole mongrel; but I don’t warnt him bit up,” called Moses over his shoulder as he walked away. To this taunt Clarence replied only with a hideous grimace.,
Howard rode his chestnut saddle-horse “The Kid,” while Nell had “Ladybird.” Moses was not so pious by nature as his mother, and he had flatly refused to have his pinto’s disposition spoiled by giving her such a name as “Hephzibah” his mother’s choice.
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THINGS happened very fast the next few days. “Something doing every minute,” Billy put it. Billy had neither been ill nor injured,—only exhausted. The wound on his scalp had been worse in appearance than in fact; and a couple of long nights in sleep, and easy days at home mended him completely.,
Pat Bliggins approached the receptacle and deposited a prodigiously overgrown, forked, dusty carrot, miraculously endowed with powers of emotion, for several wrinkles beneath its green feathery top betrayed extreme agitation.,
Some of the voices were cracked and others badly out of tune. Moses Wopp’s voice, loudest of all, sounded like a foghorn and the windows fairly rattled in their frames. Nell motioned him to her desk. She thought by occupying his attention elsewhere the music lesson might proceed with more melody and less noise. Moses had developed his stentorian tones at home, by the lusty singing of Hallelujah hymns under the strict supervision of his mother.,
“It was quite all right,” answered Nell, anxiously watching for the reappearance of Mr. Wopp’s knife, “Mr. Eliot gave me a glorious drive over the prairie behind his team of greys, but,” with a sly look towards the young rancher, “I don’t believe he likes to meet trains.”
But even as he looked he saw two people coming; his mother and Jean, crossing the foot-bridge that led to the pasture side of the river. The throbbing in his head, the stifled lungs, interest in the capture of the prisoners,—all faded before this terrible dread.
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Mrs. Wopp’s eagle eye, again rested on the lowering face of her offspring.
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They all went off, a merry, noisy troop. And the disappearing sun was the last to say to Billy “Good-night.”
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Yet it was a very quiet little child that crept down to the others a few minutes later; when asked of her fortune she burst into tears.
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>“Mother,” he resumed, “I know I must freeze to some sort of business, and that mighty soon, too. But a preacher—why, he can’t be like anybody. He never has any fun.”
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