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“No, it isn’t, sister! I’ve thought of a way out. Keep the kids straight here—I’ll be back in a minute.” “Do you think fun the first business of the world?” A gentle rap halted his reflections, a sweet voice asked to come in; and in a moment there was a rose-leaf touch on his cheek..

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“Yes, now. Once she must have been about the same size, you know.” She stood behind the child caressing her cheek. For a moment Betty stood in an attitude of dejection, but suddenly her face brightened. The muscles at the corners of her mouth stiffened, her little pointed chin was thrust forward ever so slightly and a look came into her brown eyes which said plainly, “Never you mind, Moses Wopp, I’ll get money and more than two bits for my missionary box.” Again he laughed, and patted May Nell roughly but not unkindly. “I do; but there’s preliminaries before I get you two together. Sabe?” He looked at the beaming faces, at the beautiful table with Jean’s great pagoda cake in the centre, the dates, 1893-1906, in evergreen; at the flowers everywhere; at the dishes,—they usually ate from vine leaves at their out-of-door feasts,—at the paper napkins folded fantastically and hovering over the table like gay butterflies. His eloquent face told his surprise, his gratitude, his delight. He opened his mouth to speak some fitting word, but it wouldn’t come. He tried again, for he felt the occasion called for something formally appreciative. But only a whimsical idea flitted into his mind; and he sang back—.