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“’Pears to me, Pat Bliggins, you haven’t been listenin’ proper to the story. These men rode a ship not a cayuse.” “This peacock,” went on Betty, showing the picture of a bird with plumed tail outspread, “is the white peacock of the moon. It lives in the moon, but when fairies want to come to play with li’l girls, they harness the peacock an’ drive down to earth in a silver chariot.” “It’s my fault, too, Mrs. Bennett; don’t put the blame all on Billy,” Jean half sobbed; and hurried after him..

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“O, Mosey, these leaves is lovely, an’ jist look here roun’ the edge, looks like the fairies has left footprints!” Betty, orphaned at the age of six, had been adopted by the kind-hearted Mrs. Wopp. The child found her chief joy in life, outside of Jethro, Nancy and Job, in a flower-bed. A small plot of ground had been allotted her for her own use, and there every spring for the last four years her precious flowers had bloomed and had filled her eyes with brightness and her soul with gladness. Morning-glories and nasturtiums were the surest to bloom. They climbed the strings so gracefully and turned the old weather-beaten fence where they grew into a tapestry of gorgeous dyes. “Go and bring him now, so you can renovate his appearance before supper,” directed the mother. “I’ll help a lot. You shan’t have a bit more trouble, sister; nor mamma, either.” He began to distribute the plates with noisy clatter..