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“Why yes Betty, what do you suppose they will talk about?” While Betty, mounted on a bench in the shed, was getting down her watering-can, Job, who during the afternoon had searched diligently but vainly for her, rounded the corner of the garden fence. He noted the open gate and sped towards it. As he entered the garden his eye fell on St. Elmo who stood absorbed and expectant. The turkey, his odd corner-wise gait accentuated by his anxiety of mind, rushed towards the child who at first did not notice his approach. But presently, turning around, St. Elmo beheld an apparently formidable assailant which by the most powerful flight of imagination could not be mistaken for a fairy. All escape by way of the gate was shut off by the intruder. St. Elmo’s plump legs, bare above his low socks, twinkled as he ran wildly towards the foot of the garden. Mrs. Newman and Nell waited after the show for the unique trio that had occupied the box but they were nowhere to be seen. Howard Eliot had whisked his companions off under a pretext of urgent business..

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The hours passed in an uproar of fun. The table was dismantled, toys, tools, and dishes put away, and the feast had sped into the past. “Let him play to-day, mother,” she pleaded, when the two stepped into the hall; “he can be a boy only once.” A period of silence followed excepting for the slight sounds made by the workers, the drowsy humming of flies, the murmur of an occasional bee and the faint rustlings of the tall stalks of corn. Jenny, my own true loved one.