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“Why doesn’t your mama have a man to take care of the grounds?” she questioned after she had told him something of her parents and home.,
“Jimmy, can you stand?”,
“Did you forget their breakfast, Billy?” the child questioned earnestly.,
To-day she was happy. It had fallen to her to general this great feast that Billy’s mates had planned for the celebration of his birthday. All had contributed. Not only the girls had cooked—Jean had baked a big cake, Jackson had made the candy, and Jimmy and George had sneaked up from the “Front,” and set up the long table in the arbor.
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“Oh Miss Gordon,” cried Betty suddenly roused to fresh interest, “you must see my pet turkey after supper. He has only one eye an’ he walks corner ways an’ his name is Job an’ I jist love him.” Betty’s breath was all used up and she sat back exhausted.,
“When I do my dishes, Mar, can I work in the garding, too?” inquired Betty.,
“Right—now—are you?” The arm that was around Bouncer tightened, and she thought her “heart would fly right up into her throat.”
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“But it’s a secret,” she whispered in smothered distress. “Please to go!”
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In the house, meanwhile, affairs were proceeding quite as happily as those out of doors. The hostess fluctuated between the parlor and kitchen. She was preparing a repast not only for the workers present, but also for the men-folk who would presently arrive to take them to their respective homes. Excused from quilting, she nevertheless managed to spend considerable time with her guests. Mrs. Mifsud was a lady who aspired to literary attainments. She had read “Beulah,” “Vashti,” “Lucile,” “St. Elmo” and many other books of like calibre. She felt that her talents were practically wasted, living in what she termed a desert, yet she strove, when occasion offered, by elegance of deportment and conversation to enhance her gifts. She often spoke tenderly of the late Mr. Mifsud who, in spite of the fact that his face had been adorned with bristling side-whiskers of an undeniable red, had shown in other ways some signs of intelligence and feeling. He had been carried off by the shingles. According to Mrs. Mifsud’s account, her deeply-lamented spouse had considered the tall attenuated form of his wife “willowy,” her long thin black hair “a crown of glory,” her worn narrow countenance with its sharp nose and coal-black eyes, “seraphic.”
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“I comed,” he said, calmly, “I see Billy boat.”
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Halin-Chen Response,
>The man faced her abruptly. “The devil he knows!”
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