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"I saw the yacht leave the pier," said Billy. "She sure was a dandy, wasn't she?",

"An' that's why you throwed it," exclaimed the admiring Maurice. "Gosh, nobody else would'a thought of that.",

"Maurice," remonstrated Mrs. Wilson, smothering the sympathy in her heart in the clutch of duty, "it's wrong fer you to take advantage of your pore ma's deefness this way. I wouldn't send Willium back with you, anyways. What devilment you wouldn't think of he certainly would. No, I'll ask your ma to let you come, but it's Anson I'll have bring you home an' not Willium." And with a frown and a shake of her head she followed her neighbor into the house.,

Billy, who stood still to watch them, was recalled suddenly to earth by his companion's voice.

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Almost simultaneously with his words the whistle of strong wings grew up and the six big blacks swept in, low over his decoys.,

"Oh yes you will," spoke a voice, seemingly above their heads.,

Next day was Sunday and Billy did not like Sundays. They meant the scrubbing of his face, ears and neck with "Old Brown Windsor" soap until it fairly cracked if he so much as smiled, and being lugged off with his parents and Anse to early forenoon Sunday School in the little frame church in the Valley. There was nothing interesting about Sunday School; it was the same old hum-drum over and over again—same lessons, same teachers, same hymns, same tunes; with Deacon Ringold's assertive voice cutting in above all the other voices both in lessons and singing and with Mrs. Scraff's shrill treble reciting, for her class's edification, her pet verse: "Am I nothing to thee, all ye who pass by?"—only Mrs. Scraff always improvised more or less on the scriptures, and usually threw the verse defiantly from her in this form: "You ain't nuthin to me, all you who pass me by.",

Just as the boys and girls were settling down in their seats and Jim Scroggie was glancing anxiously doorward Billy strode in. He was resplendent in his Sunday best and wore a wild thorn blossom in his button hole. He glanced quickly about the room and caught the glint and sunlight for which he hungered—a smile from the lips of Lou Scroggie. Then he seized Jack LaRose by the scruff of the neck, jerked him from the seat near the door and motioned Jim Scroggie over. "We'll set here," he whispered. "It's close to the outside in case we have to make a quick get-away."