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At this point Moses looked up from his plate and complained, “Mar, this piece o’ meat I got, is so tough it hurts yer eyes to look at it.” “Never mind Jobie, we want Jethro to win anyway, don’t we?” said Betty, presenting to the turkey her pocket filled with grain. “My racer has only one eye anyways,” said Betty defiantly as she twined a piece of nasturtium vine round the noble brow of the victor..
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Everything at the dinner table was in keeping to Betty’s eyes, from the translucent china cups to the dainty blown bubbles of confection served with ice-cream; all so fragile that even one of her small brown fingers might crush them. She laughed as she thought of the annihilating effect, should Moses appear. The ices and the angel cake and the concocted kisses of whiteof-egg confirmed in her mind the suspicion that her wonderful holiday was a dream. “So your name is Betty Wopp?” “Now Moses,” announced his mother, “Jist for a change an’ rest like, turn this here separator.” “Gee! Betty,” laughed the boy, “yer eyes look orful yet, this is the fust good shake my sides hev felt to-day, it’s jist been ’orrible the way Mar was jawred.” He was a queer figure with his bandaged head, one eye peering out, and a long, dripping red quilt trailing behind him. “I found the bed flooded, and put the comfort round me; but someway that’s wet, too.” He could hardly speak for shivering..
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