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“Hello, Billy To-morrow! Why didn’t you do that mowing last night? You said you were going to.” He dismounted, tied the pony to the post, and went inside; and one saw that in spite of jeers the boys were friends.,

May Nell looked at him with wide eyes. She saw that he was not a vineyard workman, his clothes were too fine. She did not see them in detail, the large checked trousers, the shiny gloves, and the big diamond, but she felt instinctively that one who could dress so was different from the men she knew. And the look in his face made her cold.,

“Here, you poor darling, take mine! And don’t be afraid—you’ll find your mother before long.” Edith’s words were brave, but her own eyes were moist.,

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“Yes; but I’m afraid my papa’s dead, he’s been gone so long.” How she hated that word “kid.”,

“Here you, Moses,” shouted his mother from the top of the stairs, “I heerd the pantry door squeakin’, no eatin’ till the job’s done.” She further informed him that stopping to eat “et inter his time too much an’ the work must be done afore dark.”,

“Oh, aint it beaut-i-ful?” admired Betty. The creation which she admired so immensely was made of pieces of silk of many colors and was reminiscent of numerous long-defunct waists, ribbons, neckties, hats and, perhaps, even a few wedding gowns which had travelled from several corners of the globe to be welded together in this glorious finale. The pieces, irregular in shape, had been sewn together and the seams beautified by feather-stitching. On the majority of the patches were names worked in red, green or yellow, whichever color contrasted most suitably with the background. Here, for the nominal sum of ten cents, names which might otherwise have fallen into oblivion were destined to live and bloom for incalculable years. The quilt now nearing completion would, when finished by its energetic creators, be sold at auction and it was expected to bring a handsome sum. The money so realized would revive the drooping finances of the Ladies’ Aid.,

“He didn’t come roun’ here, I kin tell you though,” joined in Mrs. Wopp, energetically. In speaking of Mr. Zelamba, her voice modulated harshly into a key of hyper-acidulated sharps. “I says to Miss Gordon, an’ she jined in with me, a piannerist may be well ’nough as an actor man, but when it comes to takin’ fer keeps, give me a real man.” After taking a deep breath she continued, “My, but he makes a heap of money an’ he loves it, too; but when he gits to be about forty, the lines in his fiz’ll be as tight as my clothes-rope arter a spell of rain.”