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A certain wide lawn, starred with white clover and daisies came unwelcome to his mind. He ought that moment to be chopping off clover tops. It was Saturday afternoon on a busy street in the city. Moses Wopp and Clarence Crump, at whose home the former was spending the week end, were on their way to the skating-rink. If they had wanted to skate there, the streets would have accommodated them with a sufficiently smooth surface, as an early frost had rimed the pavement. 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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Full of her thought she slipped from the couch, and went to the kitchen. “Mrs. Bennett, haven’t you some work a little girl could do?” “My conscience! You can’t eat all—” May Nell stopped, conscious of an unkindness. But the boy only laughed; he was used to comments on his appetite. But May Nell recovered almost before Mrs. Bennett had time to lift her. “I often do—do—faint,” she apologized, “it isn’t—isn’t ’t all dangerous.” She smiled at Mrs. Bennett, and the smile, the sweet, pale little face with her hair a shining golden halo around it, made of her an ethereal being almost unreal to the awestricken children. Yet she was soon merry again, apparently as well as ever. The Mifsud ranch-house was situated in a valley close to Ripple Creek. This stream was guarded in its serpentine course by a fringe of trees which extended several rods on each side. Moses drove up to the house door with a flourish and his passengers alighted. His mother paused a moment to urge, “Be sure an’ git yer chores done early, Moses, an’ you an’ Par be here fer supper by six o’clock.”.
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