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“Why, Billy, what has happened to make you think so?” “Well, why don’t you go along, Mrs. Lancaster? Don’t prize babies have attendants?” “St. Elmo’s lost, Ma,” wailed Maria. “We can’t find him and he’s wandered down the creek.”.

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Mrs. Bennett bade him good-night, and left him to the stars and the quiet night. Her heart was still sore for the little boy of the past, yet a strange joy came to her; the thoughtful, observant, earnest man had heralded his coming. She should be very proud of him. But not that night nor for days after did Billy look at his books. The second morning the fever was still present, and he told his mother he was “all over red goose flesh.” “Billy Boy, it’s fine! It’s splendid! But it’s so big I’m afraid Buzz will be scared.” Mrs. Mifsud, however, had seemingly heard not a word of the story. In her distress she forgot that Mrs. Wopp was decidedly plebeian in her conversation and otherwise hopelessly unfashionable; all these discrepancies vanished from her mind, and leaning over on the ample bosom, she wept copiously. Mrs. Wopp patted her in a motherly way. “One touch o’ nater makes the hull world a-kin,” she whispered, “Hearten up, Mis’ Mifsud, Moses ’ll find yer little lamb. That boy seems slow, but all’s not gold that’s a-glitterin’. He’s shorely got a nose fer findin’ things. Our black carf got lost on the prairie one day an’ he found it arter everybody else hed giv’ up huntin’.”.