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“Hold your grouch, Sour,” Harold expostulated. “Oh, Miss Gordon, here’s my name,” announced Betty, excitedly, pointing to a central part of the quilt. “An’ here’s yours right clost to it.” Mrs. Bennett crossed the room and laid a tender hand on her daughter’s shoulder. “You’re not strong and need perfect rest. Besides, you spoil the boy. It won’t hurt him to sleep there, and he must take the consequences of his own act.”.

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Betty gazed shyly at her inquisitor. Her brown eyes sparkled with the adventure of meeting a real live piannerist, as she called him. Dinner was over and Mr. Zalhambra stood before the fire in the drawing-room grate. Stooping to warm his large white hands over the flame, his hypnotic eyes reflected strangely the glow of the fire. He watched Nell Gordon as she sat stroking the flowing fair tresses of Betty. Her birthday would fall on the last Saturday in September and she was sure to be allowed a party. Each guest could be secretly advised to bring as many carrots as could be conveniently carried to gain entrance to “The greatest movin’ picter gallery in the world, where fairies an’ birds an’ flowers would act an’ tarlk.” The carrots so obtained could be auctioned off to the adults present, and Betty felt sure that her mother, seeing her carrots were not a success, would give a high price for the succulent vegetables. A discreet hint must also be thrown out that anyone not so fortunate as to be the possessor of a spare carrot could bring silver. “My boy, you have done a wonderful thing!” he said when Billy had finished. “You must come with me and tell your story again. If it comes out as I think, you’ll earn at least a thousand dollars.” “Have more toast Glory,” said Moses suddenly wakened. Unwrapping his leg from the rung of the chair, he reached across the table..