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From the kitchen came an unmistakeable odor of cheese. Ebenezer Wopp was having a slight snack before retiring. With the back of his nervous hand he was wiping from the corners of his mouth the telltale crumbs. “Oh, Lord, she’s orl I got,” he wailed. He hinted that there would be no more light in him, than in Job’s blind eye, should Betty be lost to him. “Sure!” Billy assented, heartily. “I take it back about old Sir Thomas; I guess they’re equal partners, after all.”.
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A three-legged rooster appeared. And Sir Thomas Katzenstein, according to schedule, roamed his box in great agitation, though in fine form, impressively carrying out the label on his cage, “Baby Royal Bengal Tiger.” “We won’t have any shadow people to-night, darling.” Mrs. Bennett rose and turned on the lights, though it was not yet dark; drew the curtains, and punched the fire till a storm of sparks sputtered up the chimney. The sunbeam somehow got into the internal decorations of Nancy and filtered out through her eyes. Their amber depths seemed to have turned into liquid gold. “And could he beat the old gentleman?” inquired Nell Gordon, vastly entertained..
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