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Awakened to the fact of her son’s existence and perhaps as an antidote to her unusual display of sentiment, Mrs. Wopp spoke rather sharply. “Moses, time you an’ Betty was in bed. You won’t want to git up in the mornin’ an’ milk the cows.” Later left alone in the lower part of the house she stood arms akimbo in the middle of the kitchen gazing at the door through which Nell Gordon had just departed. Shaking her head she said mysteriously, “I kalkerlate as how things is a-settin’ in that way.” She put back his tumbled hair, looked long into his eyes, realizing with a shock that she was looking up. Her little boy was gone. “An orful good-natured tied-in-at-the-waist critter, aint it?” commented Moses..

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“Well now Howard Eliot I carnt see nothin’ in that to larf at. It is grand readin’. Do read another,” said Mrs. Wopp. The curtain fell a second time to still heartier applause; and the long wait between the acts was forgotten in discussion and approval. The richest people in town had aided Edith with her costuming and properties, that thus every penny of the receipts might be saved for the great purpose. They had brought out all their stores of rich fabric, fine lace, jewels, and ornaments, for the small mummers; and the effect was entrancing. “And could he beat the old gentleman?” inquired Nell Gordon, vastly entertained. “But it’s a secret,” she whispered in smothered distress. “Please to go!”.