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CHAPTER VIII.—BETTY VISITS THE CITY OF HER DREAMS. “We must go right back,” Jimmy declared, turning to the door of the kitchen and thrusting a package within. But the moment of frolic passed, and he turned to her with shining face. “You’re the only mother I ever had—so far as I know—” his eyes danced; “anyway, you’re the only one in sight, an’ a heap too good for this guy; I guess—I’ll—I’ll mind.”.
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For a horror-stricken moment no one spoke. Even the dumb creatures were still; and Buzz, thinking it all for his benefit, watched open-mouthed for the next act in the play. “My poor lamb, my little darling,” she said, speaking with difficulty, “There are so many lynxes in the woods, and he’s so afraid of them. If he meets one he’ll die of fright.” “Moses!” called husband and wife, simultaneously. Mrs. Wopp’s voice spanned an interval of about a dozen semi-tones, and as it always grew in volume in direct ratio to the emergency of the duty to be imposed, the last syllable of her son’s name fell on that wretched boy’s ear like a clap of thunder. Mr. Wopp’s accents remained on nearly all occasions at the same even degree of meekness. Nature had not given him the temperament to indulge in crescendos or double fortes. The captivating music of Grieg’s “Butterfly” floated through the room and Moses watched the white supple fingers of the player with breathless eagerness..
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