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CHAPTER XIX.—BETTY’S ILLNESS. Innocuous as this remark might seem, it caused St. Elmo’s lip to quiver and two large tears started on their grimy course down his cheeks. “It’s my doin’s, Mar,” said Betty, “I made it orl up outer my head.”.

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“Golly! They’re working all night. I—ought to—help—to-morrow. I—” He slept again with his good resolution half made. She shook her head. “I’ll give you spalpeens something to laugh over!” threatened the injured one, as he brushed the snow and dust from his hat. Then he slowly went on looking back at the unyielding glacier-like surface of the sidewalk. How did he know her name, she wondered, yet answered more bravely than she felt. “Yes, sir.” She thought it best to be as polite as possible. “I’m alone now, but the boys are expected every minute.” She would say “boys” even if Clarence didn’t come; it sounded more protecting..