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“Don’t tell—must Edith and May Nell know?” he called after her. “Oh, all the town will—mother!” The anguish in his words halted her. “Mother, this wasn’t a boys’ scrap at all. I didn’t think of you or—or anything; an’ something must have squelched Betsey, she never peeped. Mother, I felt—I felt mad enough to kill him!” He whispered the awesome words. “Alone, mamma said,” came the second voice. Not far behind the democrat came a light buggy drawn by a team of greys. Howard Eliot and Nell Gordon sat therein..

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“What yer whistlin’ so mournful like?” queried his mother, “makes me think of funerals an’ sich like; jist come in an’ help yer par with the stove-pipes, mebbe that’ll cheer you up.” To stay the cloud that began to gather over Moses’ brow, Howard suggested going to see a vaudeville show. The words were hardly out of his mouth when the sound of an approaching team was heard. Betty eyed ruefully the silk shawl she had flung on the ground. As the story became more intelligible to childish apprehension, several bright pairs of eyes rested on the teacher. “Then,” continued Mrs. Wopp, “the sailors carst lots to see who should be throwed orf the ship, an’ the lot fell on Joner.”.