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CHAPTER XVI THE BRIDGE TO SAFETY,

“Now Mosey, you be ticket man at the gate an’ I’ll hev the circus all ready,” cried Betty bounding into the house in the shortest possible time after the departure of the elderly merrymakers.,

The operetta opened with a weird winter scene, when the Sower (Harold) sowed his grain, and the gnomes and elves set upon him; and evoked Storm King (Jimmy), Wind (Bess), and Frost (Jackson). He was the comedy of the little drama; and dressed all in black, covered with silver spangles and diamond dust, he made a joke that the wine-growers appreciated, for it is the black frosts of April they fear.,

“There’s a little secret about work; with grown-ups it is often their play; and they like it.”

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SUNDAY brought rain, and Mrs. Bennett decided that May Nell must remain quietly in the house. The only apparent result of her exciting day, and the faint, was a languor that made her willing to obey, to curl up by the fire, with Sir Thomas by her side. He was a tremendous cat, who accepted lazily all the caresses bestowed upon him, while Flash, his white mate, was shy, and unless forced, would not appear before strangers.,

“Been talkin’ to a grave-digger?” queried Mrs. Wopp, of her offspring, as Moses selected a comfortable seat, his sober face still bearing traces of the last few days’ anxiety. She looked on the solicitude of Moses with an approving eye, but it was necessary, however, to hide her maternal pride by a series of assaults upon him on every possible pretext. Her banterings also helped to keep her son and heir in the spotlight.,

Billy read the note several times. He knew that Jimmy meant much more than the words said; it was his offer of the “olive branch.” And Billy, thinking over that miserable afternoon, wondered again how it had been possible for him to feel such murderous hate for anything living. And for Jimmy! His mate at school, in play! The picture came to him of Jackson crying, of Vilette,—yes, it was not strange he had been angry. But it was not his duty to punish; even if it had been, he knew he had forgotten Jackson and Vilette, forgotten everything except the rage of the fight. Why was it? Older heads than Billy’s have asked in sorrow that same question after the madness of some angry deed has passed to leave in its wake sleepless remorse.,

“Yes, I could eat a graven image.”