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“Now hold his head between your hands and tell him not to touch me.” Nero, nonchalantly fiddling a trifling accompaniment to the burning of Rome, had nothing on Moses, as that blithe-hearted boy whistled a joyous, albeit unmelodious, lilt to the devastation of Betty’s picture show box. Everything at the dinner table was in keeping to Betty’s eyes, from the translucent china cups to the dainty blown bubbles of confection served with ice-cream; all so fragile that even one of her small brown fingers might crush them. She laughed as she thought of the annihilating effect, should Moses appear. The ices and the angel cake and the concocted kisses of whiteof-egg confirmed in her mind the suspicion that her wonderful holiday was a dream. “So your name is Betty Wopp?”.
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Conrad
From where he stood Billy could see the distress in her face. He must think of a way to get her, and he must, must hurry! The child reared without pets was delighted with the animal life about her; the cats, old Bouncer, the white chickens, and pigeons cooing in the loft. She had made the box herself of small pieces of wood, the lid was nailed on and was provided with a wide inviting-looking slit so that coins of large denomination could be deposited therein. To further impress the unsophisticated guest, a Latin Grammar was exhumed from a pile of books, and totally careless of how Moses was smarting under such an exhibition of scholarship, Clarence recited loudly “Amo, amas, amat.”.
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