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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. “What’ll I sing Betty?” “How much will you pay fer them fer my missionary box?” bargained the child. “Will four shinin’ new quarters do?”.

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Presently Moses’ thoughts returned to the meals provided by the restaurants of Calgary, and he decided it would be a good pastime for some rainy day to relate it all to Betty especially about the “little minners suffercated in rice an’ tryin’ to climb onto rafts of lemon-slices.” Billy had been reeling off stanzas of his favorite “Lady of the Lake,”—“by the yard,” Mrs. Bennett said, acting it as he recited, somewhat retarding the work and endangering the dishes. Now he dropped his towel, caught up his mother and raced with her around the room. He was so strong that she was almost helpless in his grasp. Billy heard the hatted one say “So long!” saw him start down a path that followed close beside the stream, perfectly hidden from any one who might be walking the crests above. The other man brought a pail and started up the hill. “She’ll be afraid to sleep in the downstairs bedroom,” Mrs. Bennett reflected, planning rapidly for the unexpected child whom she still had no thought of turning from her door..