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“Can’t I see the faywies some time, Betty?” asked St. Elmo. Now a steamboat was on hand. At odd times for weeks, Billy, Harold, and one or two other boys, under secrecy of lock and key, had been slowly bringing to completion a wonderful structure. “Then he walked back as slowly and dignifiedly as a minister,—isn’t ‘dignifiedly’ an awkward word? I wonder if it is right?”.

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“Now you’re Fair Ellen and I’m defending you at Goblin Cave!” He thrust her behind him, held her tight with one arm, while he flourished the carving knife and called on Clan Alpine’s foes to appear. During Betty’s illness these one-sided dialogues were more than usually plentiful. In this way only was Mrs. Wopp able to alleviate the “gnawin’ at her heart-strings” as she said, at having Betty so ill. It also kept the boy alive to the fact that life’s path was not strewn with “cabbage roses.” Such, at least, were the confidences poured into the sympathetic ear of his pinto. Suddenly a light, as a blinding flash of lightning, seemed to reveal to the boy his deficiencies. He stroked into place the strand of red hair that always stood upright on the crown of his head, untwisted his left leg from around his right and otherwise tried to attain the ideal of knightliness which on the moment crystallized in his mind. To-day she was happy. It had fallen to her to general this great feast that Billy’s mates had planned for the celebration of his birthday. All had contributed. Not only the girls had cooked—Jean had baked a big cake, Jackson had made the candy, and Jimmy and George had sneaked up from the “Front,” and set up the long table in the arbor..