“But I don’t wish May Nell away, mother, do you?”,
She was happy and the time passed unnoticed till she had finished, and put the food back in the pail, when a queer, dizzy feeling came upon her and she sank down on one of the rugs.,
The roar of the flames came dreadfully near. Trees cracked, crashed and fell, sending up columns of sparks and cinders that dropped about the panting climbers. Billy began to wonder if he would hold out to the end of his task. His boy’s agility had easily outdone the man’s; but he had made the trip once before that day, had ridden from town at a killing speed; and now his endurance was almost at an end, while the Sheriff was getting his “second wind.”,
“Oh Miss Gordon,” cried Betty, her dark brown eyes sparkling with delight, “the flowers can talk to each other across them telfone wires, can’t they?”
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But minds may stray though eyes seem attentive. Two boys began to indulge surreptitiously in the mild amusement of extracting toothsome kernels from refractory shells. Cracking nuts not being conducive to alertness of mind, Mrs. Wopp promptly confiscated a large bag of filberts which proved to be the joint property of Pat Bliggins and Pete Stolway.,
“Who is going to auction the quilt when it is finished?” inquired Nell Gordon, appealing to her hostess as President of the Ladies’ Aid.,
All went well for some blocks. There was a flattering audience at each front door; a few honored the pageant by following. These were mostly mothers of the younger children, who knew the possibilities of such an aggregation of animals and boys.,
“But where does our fun come in? Girls don’t build railroads,” Bess complained.
“I thank you, Roderick Dhu,” she called out over Billy’s shoulder with another little choke, for Jimmy had refused Mrs. Bennett’s offer of dry clothes and was starting home alone.
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By this time Mr. Wopp was bearing a length of pipe into the yard. The parlor looked like a morgue with its inanimate objects lying bidden under sheets and cloths of varying degrees of past usefulness. Through a hole of one sheet could be seen the listless towzled head of Hannah, her faded wax countenance betraying the need of a tonic.
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They were a happy lot. Each held some high-sounding position, the name coined in Billy’s busy brain. His box of abused tools came forth; the much mended wheelbarrow, picks, shovels wobbly from use as well as abuse, improvised things that only an imagination as large as Billy’s could have named tools,—something for each one there.
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