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“Here are more beads of wampum, Betty, as I have no garden.” Nell Gordon’s silver donation added appreciably to the weight of the collection box. “They’re a regular Damon and Pythias, aren’t they? And we’ll have Flash for the Polar Bear, in the circus, and Tom for the Royal Bengal Tiger, the baby tiger, you know.” The bottle went crash, and a furious yell informed the neighborhood that the Gang was “up to some new deviltry.”.
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“Whoa, Josh! Whoa, Jake!” he roared, apparently exerting himself to the utmost to hold in the skittish pair, but in reality giving a few practised touches on the reins which defeated his commands. “I think the linin’ of Miss Gordon’s cloud needs polishin’ these days,” ventured Betty, shyly. “Never mind yer notes, Ebenezer, jist you sarve the pork.” The pianist walked on the stage as the eyes of Mrs. Wopp and Moses rested on Betty. Howard Eliot had not taken his gaze from Nell Gordon expecting momentarily to catch her glance and to be rewarded by a smile. A smile radiated her fair face, but alas! It was not for him..
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