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“No, Billy never forgets his cats,” his sister answered for him; “though the chickens might sometimes suffer but for mamma. Take your ill-bred felines out, Billy.”,

At this moment a wild whoop was heard, and through the open door Moses could be seen dashing out of the corral gate on his cow-pony.,

The Bennetts’ was one of the oldest places in town, and the most beautiful. It was near the heart of the growing village ambitiously calling itself a city. Level lawns protected by high hedges and shaded by many trees, spread amply around the house and back to the first terrace, where a tangle of berry vines covered trellises that shut off a lower level devoted to vegetables. Beyond this was the chickens’ domain, rock-dotted acres that sloped sharply to where Runa Creek boiled over its stony bed. Here mother hens fluttered and scolded while web-footed broods paddled in the edges of the stream.,

“Yes, he did. And he said, awfully solemn, ‘Remember, Billy, no one but a coward strikes his foe in the back. A boy of mine who could do that,—I don’t think I should wish him to wear this.’ And he pointed to his Loyal Legion button. O mother, I hit Jimmy first, I hit him in the back, and I—I kicked him in the stomach! I’ve disgraced papa’s button forever!” His last words were a groan, and he hid his face.

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The first act over, a troop of black-faced comedians occupied the stage.,

Clarence brought out his high-school books to display before the simple country boy the profundity of his learning. He opened his “Euclid” and Moses, sitting at the table, was vastly impressed with the sight of angles and triangles, and rash but interesting statements about abc being equal to bed. His attitude toward Clarence became one of utter abasement as that budding Archimedes produced his exercise book covered with squat-shaped triangles gleefully pursuing circles whose rims were horribly mangled by reason of defective compasses.,

“Is theh faywies wound heah, Betty? Can they see us?” inquired the little boy in awe-struck tones.,

Mrs. Bennett hugged her closer and patted her cheek softly, but let the passion of tears spend itself a little before trying the comfort of words. Then she questioned of the child’s parents, her past life, and the events just preceding the catastrophe in San Francisco, that she herself might better understand how to shield and make happy the little waif that a terrible, heaving earth had cast into her home, her arms.