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“I think the linin’ of Miss Gordon’s cloud needs polishin’ these days,” ventured Betty, shyly. “Then he walked back as slowly and dignifiedly as a minister,—isn’t ‘dignifiedly’ an awkward word? I wonder if it is right?” “He will dig up a worm from the ground, an’ while the worm stands on one foot with droopin’ head the robin’ll pick it up an’ carry it orff to feed the baby robins.”.
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The loft in the barn had been swept and garnished by Mr. Wopp for Betty’s moving picture show, and thither, after the preliminary how-d’you-do’s were over, she led her eager audience. Her head was held at the exact angle for ascending the ladder to perform the imposing duties of moving picture operator, and her foot was on the first rung when she suddenly thought of the collection box for the carrots the children were carrying. “And there are many times when the duty itself is disagreeable, yet doing it brings a finer joy than shirking it ever could bring.” “That’s enough, Billy. Jimmy Dorr and George Packard are coming.” She was a sensible woman, yet she disliked to expose her boy to Jimmy’s caustic tongue. But Billy was equal to more than Jimmy. “We’ll play there’s a strike in the saw-mills, Dutchy, and this is scab labor,” Billy excused amiably. And for a fact the white cotton string carried the messages quite safely from the “Front,” where Jimmy and George laid out the “line” over wonderful grades, across impossible gorges; and “wired” back for further orders. Harry Potter was the operator at the “Front,” and Vilette,—“Women do operate, you know,” she said,—Vilette was the proud holder of “the key” at Headquarters, where Clarence Hammond strutted around as Messenger; and because he was the “son of the Boss,” bullied his Cousin Harry unmercifully..
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