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“No more, kitties; that’s all that is good for you. Go back to your chair.” “O Billy,” his mother laughed, “you need not decide to-night. Besides, it was all Bess’s nonsense. I can’t quite imagine my heedless boy in a pulpit.” “Run, Billy! You left the door open—she’ll get the dinner!” Mrs. Bennett cautioned, hurrying out herself to reckon the loss..

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Billy heard her, though. “Come on, sister, mamma, too, and see the fun,” he called, not unwillingly, for he was a bit proud of their work now that it was out in the light of day. He had reason; it was really an imposing craft for boys to build from scraps. “’Cause I love you, ’n’ I hope the edges’ll be all pink like my mornin’-glories.” The last act exhausted the possibilities of the theatre in light effects and sylvan scenery; and the curtain rose on a gorgeous scene. But oh, horror! In the middle of the stage the scene-shifters had left the ugly truck that moved Storm King’s reservoir of ice and snow. When used in previous acts, bed and wheels had been hidden by moss, the tank had been covered by his mantle, and the entire mechanism, moving as he moved, had seemed a part of himself. Now its secret was disclosed and it was ridiculous. “I see two rigs comin’,” announced Mrs. Wopp, suddenly. From where she sat she could view through the window a considerable portion of the trail. “The men’ll soon orl be here, so s’posin’ we roll up the quilt. Ef everybody’s back’s achin’ like mine they’ll be glad to quit.”.