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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. She was dressed in a simple velvet gown the color that the twilight sky takes just before the stars come out, sapphire blue. Her red pouting lips were curved in a caressing smile, and her eyes rimmed with their black curling lashes were full of the joy of life. Betty’s verdict, although punctuated by an interrogation point, had been correct when she first put the question to Moses, “Aint our new teacher lovely with her shinin’ blue eyes?” Presently he raised his head and was confronted by Job the turkey wearing a tiny bright pink hat and a green ribbon round his neck. An antimacassar bearing wide magenta and red crocheted stripes covered his back causing him to strut with peacock pride..

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The pianist sat easily at the piano and began the Moskowski selection that had failed to create the expected furore in the afternoon. A cadenza that shivered down the spine like spray from a glacial torrent wakened the room. Then he plunged into the first theme. His small audience listened spell-bound. Betty’s eyes followed the fingers that leaped over the ivory keys like white flame. A subtle current began to play in the room. Steadily it grew in power. Magnetism to the nth degree was being generated. A tremendous chord brought the music to a close and the pianist to his feet. Something in Nell’s glance inspired him. He whirled about the room whistling and imitating some of the cadenzas and other passages from the selection just played. He gesticulated wildly with his hands, the passion for dramatic music oozing from his pores. “Lan’ sakes, here’s friend neighbor,” exclaimed Mrs. Wopp entering the room from the kitchen, “yer jist in time to help this here pore overworked teacher with some papers she brung home from the school.” Job’s feathers that to Betty’s eyes had taken on the glory of ostrich plumes, drooped disconsolately, while Moses denounced in fluent language the stupidity of the fowl that had caused the unfortunate episode. He declared loudly that he would like to wring the aggressive portions of those feathered culprits. The group stood for a moment, a miniature Vesuvius erupting lava and ashes, while Moses wrung the offending liquid from Betty’s yellow drape and the magenta antimacassar. His sense of the ludicrous however overcame his wrath, “My Eye Betty!” he cried, “I near kerlapse every time I draw up my curtings on Job.” “Fer the love o’ Mike, kid, how did you git here?” said Moses, rousing the small sleeper. “Gosh, but yer face needs warshin’.”.