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“My conscience! How lovely and stylish you look!” The child, accustomed to elegant dress, praised with discriminating eyes. “Tremendous long visit,” Billy taunted; “what’d you come for? Another donation for my new sister?” “Now, Mose, fer the elbow. Stiddy! Don’t shove! Don’t pull! Hole her stiddy!”.

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“White eyebrows child! What are you talkin’ about? Yer eyebrows are blacker nor that stove.” He held out his hand, but the little girl put hers behind her. “I’ll come by myself,” she said with dignity. Whatever happened that dreadful man should not touch her. “I carn’t think what’s happened to my carrots this year,” said Mrs. Wopp, vexedly, after a time. “Hardly any hev come up, an’ them as did come, aint growed much. We’ll shorely not hev many carrot puddin’s nor pies this winter, nor mulligans neither.” The concluding part of this speech was of vital interest to Moses, who delighted in all the delicacies mentioned. In the hours of joy that followed, joy known only to boys and farms in conjunction, Billy,—and it was unusual for him,—more than once recalled his mother’s words; heeded them to the extent of bidding Harold a reluctant good-bye when the sun was still blazing high above the horizon. But when, on his way home, he came to the branching of the road his good resolution weakened. He looked back. The sun was surely more than an hour high. He would have time to go up the hill road to the “Ha’nt.” And, beside that, he wished to look at the river where its divided flow encircled a tiny, shrub-grown island..