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“That’s no giant. She isn’t bigger’n a kid. Will she let you come to play? The Gang’s coming to-morrow.” He tidied himself, bade his mother good-bye, and followed the girls to rehearsal. This time Moses was more successful. Comforted, he felt he could enjoy a few morsels himself. Calling the contrite Jethro, who, after extricating himself from the ruins he had made, had retired under a bench, the boy made his way to a remote corner. Here no parental admonitions would disturb him. He surveyed with pleased expectancy an enormous triangle of pie, a huge slab of gingerbread, a monument of glistening iced cake, half a dozen tarts, and a few other trifles he had brought with him..

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“An’ well I know who’s makin’ him stew an’ chomp. You needn’t try to deceive yer, Mar,” chided the knowing matron. “No, no, dear. Keep them, an’ I’ll put them in warter when we go to the house,” begged Betty. “The fairies are orful cross when they see dead flowers lyin’ round. Mebbe they might be too angry to come in the garding again ever.” On reaching the hay-loft all were seated with the least possible degree of discomfort on upturned soap-boxes and apple-boxes. Betty covered both windows with blankets and lit a lantern. She had constructed a pasteboard box with a large square opening and now set the lantern in such a way that a picture placed at the opening in the box was illuminated so that all could see it clearly. Betty showed her pictures in a well arranged order and her lively imagination supplied the connecting links in the story her lantern “slides” unfolded. “Don’t you think the new teacher is jist lovely Moses, with her big shinin’ blue eyes an’ wavy black hair?” Betty eagerly enquired, “An’ aint her clothes lovely too?”.