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“My conscience! How lovely and stylish you look!” The child, accustomed to elegant dress, praised with discriminating eyes. “Hello, Billy! You washin’ floors?” There was a sneer in Jimmy’s voice. “Never mind Mosey, yer heart don’t need fixin’ anyhow,” comforted Betty..
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They were at the dripping roadside tank and back in a trice. Gently where a moment before he had been ferocious with anger, Billy wiped his play-mate’s face, or rather, changed the mud from one spot to another, got him to his feet again, and finally into the buggy with the little girls by his side. “Train? Is she going away?” The small girl’s face grew sorrowful. A low rumble of thunder was heard in the distance and a flash of lightning made the coal-oil lamp look like a bilious spot in the room. “That’s a string bass.”.
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