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“Ain’t she her own aunt?” hazarded Mr. Wopp, abstractedly thrusting his hammer into his boot top and scratching his bald head with a pair of pincers. “Billy, I don’t like the look of your eyes; you’re reading too much at night,” his mother said one evening when he was helping with the dishes. “You must go to bed earlier.” “It’s up to you now, my girl,” he panted under his breath. “The board will bend—you mustn’t be frightened. Fix your eyes on the tree—come fast.”.

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Mrs. Bennett caught the despair in his words, and knew this could be no ordinary trouble to be petted away with a few caresses. Some crisis had come that must be wisely met. She entered, knelt by the bed, and put her arms around him. The spring starlight dimly outlined his head on the pillow but gave no hint of its bruises. “Billy, dear, nothing you can ever do will be bad enough to keep your mother away from you. What is it, my son?” “Half-sister, step-sister, persister, or sister-in-law—” Jimmy began, when Billy’s frown stopped him, and Bess interrupted with, “He thinks he’s saying something witty: laugh everybody.” So a little church had been built there. The four walls of peeled logs carefully chinked with plaster were now grey and weathered. Inside of the building the red-draped altar, pulpit and reading-desk occupied at least one-third of the available space. There were pews to seat a score of people and behind these was a large heater. The uneven walls were whitewashed. In the windows, three on each side, were alternate blue and white panes of glass. Now was Billy’s chance! The place was alone! He waited till each traveller was out of view on the curving road, then climbed up, crossed the dusty wheel tracks, and crept into the brush on the other side. Once hidden he “snooped” silently through the tangled chaparral, coming shortly to the mystery-house, so close to it that he could have looked in at the windows had they been clean enough..