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“Who is going to auction the quilt when it is finished?” inquired Nell Gordon, appealing to her hostess as President of the Ladies’ Aid.,
Friday came; and May Nell delighted her father with her part in the exercises. Billy was very proud of her as she stood on the platform, lovely in her white frock and her fair, curling hair, reciting her “piece.”,
“Did you hev a good time in the city larst week, Mis’ Mifsud?” asked Mrs. Wopp, politely.,
Betty, not interested in intricate relationships, tiptoed into the parlor and uncovering the organ, played with one finger “Home Sweet Home.” The wool-embroidered motto on the wall almost wept.
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BILLY, Flash is the cleverest cat ever!” May Nell exclaimed as she bounded in some days later.,
When the party reached the house and St. Elmo had been received with every manifestation of joy, Mr. Wopp in one burst of eloquence explained how his boy Moses had found him. Moses, the hero of the hour, stood abashed before the encomiums of Mrs. Mifsud. He twirled his hat at a fearful rate on his doubled fist, standing awkwardly on one foot the while.,
IT was a gray, cold day, unusual for May, the kind of day that accords with ill-nature. It reminded Billy of the incident of the opera when Rain and Storm, driven by his own insistence, had blown in on the stage quite out of season, and dragged off with them the remnants of winter. For the first Sunday since May Nell’s coming he took his wheel after dinner and went off alone. He was in accord with the sullen sky and air. In the morning he had answered his mother angrily; because Bouncer wished to play instead of coming through the gate when called, Billy had slammed it on his tail, knowing well that in a happier mood he would have been more careful.,
But May Nell was not to be comforted, till that evening when she composed a wonderful ode to “The Wreck of the Fair Ellen.”
“Oh, no,” he sighed; “I suppose duty is the first business; but duty is such a narrow, knock-you-down little word.” His voice was tense and hard.
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“Oh go on Betty, a daddy-long-legs’d die of starvin’ on what you eat.”
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Vigorously all joined in the closing hymn and Mrs. Wopp’s high soprano could be heard above all the other voices. A sense of duty well performed added even greater power to the vocal billowing.
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“Yeh,” scoffed Moses, “this here turnin’ machines every Monday makes me sick. I aint got no liver left to be cheerful.”
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>May Nell looked incredulous. “And they feed her strawberries and vanilla beans and chocolate for flavors, I suppose; but how do you separate them when you milk? Will you show me the next time you fill that big bucket?” She nodded her head toward the freezer, and was so demure that not even Bess, still less Jimmy, knew whether she was deceived or poking fun.
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