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A whoop startled her and she turned to see a handsome boy racing up on a brown pony, also carrying a basket. “And could he beat the old gentleman?” inquired Nell Gordon, vastly entertained. “Yes, you shall be our dear little girl.” Mrs. Bennett took the forlorn child in her motherly arms and kissed her. “You’re tired and hungry, too, aren’t you?”.

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“Dad an’ Mosey don’t look orful happy,” she laughed. “Smile at me, Mosey.” “Sunday School, too? How long you’ll be away!” While Betty, mounted on a bench in the shed, was getting down her watering-can, Job, who during the afternoon had searched diligently but vainly for her, rounded the corner of the garden fence. He noted the open gate and sped towards it. As he entered the garden his eye fell on St. Elmo who stood absorbed and expectant. The turkey, his odd corner-wise gait accentuated by his anxiety of mind, rushed towards the child who at first did not notice his approach. But presently, turning around, St. Elmo beheld an apparently formidable assailant which by the most powerful flight of imagination could not be mistaken for a fairy. All escape by way of the gate was shut off by the intruder. St. Elmo’s plump legs, bare above his low socks, twinkled as he ran wildly towards the foot of the garden. “I’m going to work as soon ’s school’s out; it’s for you and May Nell, too, you know.”.