The captivating music of Grieg’s “Butterfly” floated through the room and Moses watched the white supple fingers of the player with breathless eagerness.,
And Billy did not think of it as strange till Buzz’s grandmother called from behind the window curtain, “Delia, you surely won’t traipse through town with that crowd! How you will look!”,
Betty’s tears by now were flowing too fast for her to make an answer. She picked up the whimpering dog and proceeded to carry him home. From time to time Moses stroked the quivering head and murmured low phrases of comfort.
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Betty, not interested in intricate relationships, tiptoed into the parlor and uncovering the organ, played with one finger “Home Sweet Home.” The wool-embroidered motto on the wall almost wept.,
“Before vacation? Why, they’ll be just the things to do in vacation.”,
Mrs. Wopp was much too energetically engaged to enter into fuller argument. She busied herself preparing the tubs for rinsing, singing in a high tremolo, “Shall we gather at the river?”,
Zalhambra was a vaudeville artist. His was the star act on each bill. He was undeniably a genius; it needed but a few bars of fortissimo plus crescendo to realize that he was a virtuoso of the first rank. When he played a Rag the audience shouted with delight; but when he sprinkled torrential cadenzas through the dizzying syncopation, like some mighty giant tossing meteors into a handful of fire-crackers, something like an electric shock stirred his hearers.
When the house was reached, Eliza Wopp was standing, an effective barricade, at the door, waving her large hands in a gesture indicative of dismay. Moses stoically told his tale of assault.
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Which last order was the signal for a giddy frolic. Finally, “Everybody promenade, you know where,” and the dancers joined the spectators on the benches.
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The quarantine had been raised, and at night Billy had “the run of the house”; though his days were still spent in “the prison cell” as he called the dark room. It seemed to him that light came in with the little girl, and all the sparkle and fragrance of the young summer without.
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Through the Stygian darkness of the loft loomed the figure of Mrs. Wopp, a white apron of huge dimensions indicating her presence. She made as though to descend the ladder.
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>“Good hearts need no fairy wings,” Mrs. Bennett replied to Billy while she smiled at the little girl. “Jean told her mother about our May Nell, and Mrs. Hammond came over with a generous lot of outgrown things.”
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