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“‘Place there the boy,’ the tyrant said “Shame on you Moses, rampagin’ an’ bellerin’ there like a gang of coyotes,” remonstrated his mother. “Yes, Mosey, I jist want to go to my mornin’-glory garding to tell it good-night.” She rubbed her sleepy tear-stained eyes..
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Had he but dreamed on for an hour or so he would have returned, rested, refreshed, the cheery boy that helped to make the Bennett house a home. But a voice in the road above startled him. Only a word was spoken, a greeting; but it was surly and foreign, Italian. Mrs. Mifsud who had listened to this recital with polite interest, now excused herself on the plea of urgent duties in the kitchen. “O Billy, think how many gophers Flash catches, and what gentlemen they are in the house,” Edith defended. She was chorister for one of the churches, and was now gathering her music. May Nell looked at him a minute before speaking. “You like doing things, but you don’t like work. Isn’t work doing things?”.
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