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“An’ was the pore little feller lookin’ fer Joner?” said Mrs. Wopp. She spoke pityingly, yet she could not avoid some slight feeling of satisfaction over this evident tribute to her powers of biblical narrative. “Billy, I don’t think you could possibly have been happier on your birthday than I was; yet I was so tired that night that I could not sleep. The work of that day was play to me.” He woke early the next morning. This was rare for him; he usually slept like a bear in midwinter. Perhaps the creaking of the windmill all through the night made his slumber light. Another noise had disturbed him, the sewing machine. Its whirr had come up to him from the open window of the living-room. He knew mother and sister were sewing hard, that on the morrow the poor little stranger might be suitably clad. He had brought upon them this extra work! And this was only the beginning. If the child’s mother was not found they must buy clothes as well as food; and this would take a lot of his sister’s money..
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Conrad
Fate led the trio to the theatre where Mr. Zalhambra was playing. Howard took his friends to a box and no sooner were they seated than he espied Nell and Betty. “No worse ’n you, I reckon,” was the rueful response. Billy’s appearance justified Jimmy’s speech; for freckles were standing out large and ghastly from one or two very white spots on the younger boy’s battered face. “Can you get home alone?” Vigorously cleaning up the still bewildered victim, Mrs. Wopp hurled fresh orders. Billy was skeptical, yet soon convinced, as the little girl slowly and carefully read the problems, followed his directions, and obtained correct results. A few problems were too complicated; these the boy had her mark for attack with recovered sight..
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