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“I’m sec’etary; and I pass the books, and sing; and I’m—I’m giggle squelcher.” Her anxiety somewhat allayed for the moment, Mrs. Mifsud roused herself for the entertainment of her guests. “We’ll play there’s a strike in the saw-mills, Dutchy, and this is scab labor,” Billy excused amiably. And for a fact the white cotton string carried the messages quite safely from the “Front,” where Jimmy and George laid out the “line” over wonderful grades, across impossible gorges; and “wired” back for further orders. Harry Potter was the operator at the “Front,” and Vilette,—“Women do operate, you know,” she said,—Vilette was the proud holder of “the key” at Headquarters, where Clarence Hammond strutted around as Messenger; and because he was the “son of the Boss,” bullied his Cousin Harry unmercifully..

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And so the story went on. All the wholesome things of the country that children like had come from one and another. And each had been as happy in giving as Billy could possibly be in receiving. “But if your steamer works you don’t want its secrets peddled round; and girls always blab.” Vina was no exception. Ball games, church collections, children’s mite societies, girls sewing, boys running errands, each and all helped with the relief work. Next followed a buckboard gaily painted red. Mrs. Mifsud and her daughter Maria aged fourteen who had taken a “quarter” of music lessons and was now the organist of the church, were occupants. Between them was wedged the pet of the family St. Elmo Mifsud a child of four. St. Elmo wore long chestnut curls and an angelic expression. Clarence Egerton Crump, Mrs. Mifsud’s nephew who was visiting his aunt and cousins, accompanied the family on his wheel..