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He looked at the beaming faces, at the beautiful table with Jean’s great pagoda cake in the centre, the dates, 1893-1906, in evergreen; at the flowers everywhere; at the dishes,—they usually ate from vine leaves at their out-of-door feasts,—at the paper napkins folded fantastically and hovering over the table like gay butterflies. His eloquent face told his surprise, his gratitude, his delight. He opened his mouth to speak some fitting word, but it wouldn’t come. He tried again, for he felt the occasion called for something formally appreciative. But only a whimsical idea flitted into his mind; and he sang back— “I’d give my collar butting fer a seat on Noer’s ark right now,” said Moses, loudly, interrupting the speaker. Then the roof began to leak in another spot and a stream of water poured down on Betty’s moving picture apparatus, so that the show had to be discontinued. Every back bent a little lower. Every face flushed a little rosier under its coat of grime. Praise from Billy was all they asked..

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“Put a li’l shoe-black on then an’ that’ll make me dark again,” advised Betty serenely. The expression on the childish countenance became even more complex and a close observer could have seen that all was not going to be well with Moses Wopp for the next few days, and that “he’d be sorry.” “You’d best go an’ take her hoss, Moses,” directed Mr. Wopp. Then raising his voice he called, “Go right on into the house, Mis’ Mifsud. Lize has jist gone in from the garden.” Mrs. Wopp rose from her chair and seating herself on the sofa beside her husband took his thin hand in her substantial one, squeezing it openly..