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Nancy had jumped on a chair, and when Jethro pranced up to her again she promptly boxed his ear. The blow, delivered with such a soft paw, could not have been very severe, but the feelings of the pup were badly hurt. He did not yelp, but his brown eyes grew solemn and wistful and he ceased his antics. He put his forepaws on the rung of the chair and looked long and appealingly at Nancy. The cat sat down, her paws doubled under her, and apparently remained quite unmoved. But her heart may have been touched more than an observer would imagine, because from that time, she gradually grew more tolerant towards the pup. Now they were very good friends. As that long-suffering Mrs. Wopp wiped up the last traces of the chase she observed, “Moses’ footprints is twict as big as Betty’s, but hern is twict as many. They’ll shore git inter jist as much mischief, but Praise be! They’re both toein’ in the right d’rection.” Clank! Clank! Clank!.

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Mrs. Mifsud, in the lead of the rescuing party, ran through the garden gate in time to see St. Elmo fall headlong, his feet having become entangled in the long rank grass near the fence. A few minutes later the entire Egyptian fortune-telling outfit came down stairs at Billy’s heels. The hubbub was a riot of fun, and no one noticed that Billy said nothing about the revelations of destiny made to him; though later Jean recalled that in the zig-zag journey around the park that was Billy’s evening exercise, he spoke very little to the chatterers with him, even forgot to “jolly.” “Come, come! We can’t be cremated while we wait. Mush!” “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.”.