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“Billy! My—boy!” Mrs. Bennett bent over him; and he felt a tear where her cheek touched his. The little stranger girl smiled winningly. Her childish companions had not been numerous enough to justify her in drawing such close lines; and she liked the sweet, half timid faces that always looked so earnestly into her own. “Surely, I’ll play with you. I’ll come to see you some time when Mrs. Bennett says I may.” According to plan, Billy’s mother had called and detained him while the score of laughing youngsters gathered and stood silently around the table. When he was running across the lawn again, his face washed and hair combed, matters he thought might well have been omitted when time was so precious, he was struck by the strange stillness. What had happened to stop every tongue at once? He ran on faster, through the trellis gate, and halted, transfixed. A shout greeted him. Each one waved a small flag, and sang lustily—.

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“It’s my fault, too, Mrs. Bennett; don’t put the blame all on Billy,” Jean half sobbed; and hurried after him. “Put a crown of pickled olerves on me,” demanded Moses, “me ’n Jethro beat.” He stood before his sister mopping his face. The express waggon with a wheel off was overturned and a frightened. “Cheep, cheep, cheep” came from beneath it. “Oh, Billy!” she said, despairingly; and he knew in spite of her smile that she disliked his words. “The little girl is looking for you. She is lonely; you must amuse her.” “Why yes Betty, what do you suppose they will talk about?”.