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CHAPTER XII.—THE AUTOGRAPH QUILT.,“Here are more beads of wampum, Betty, as I have no garden.” Nell Gordon’s silver donation added appreciably to the weight of the collection box.,“Oh, no; there aren’t any. Billy says so, and he knows. He knows, too, that there are other people here beside the Italians.”,She stood at the end of the creaking wharf, and one little bare arm was lifted high. She held a small fruit jar filled with water and beet juice. It was awkward, but Billy had insisted on the fruit jar,—“So’s it will be sure to break; it’s the only kind of a bottle that always will break.”,“You’re George Rideout Smith’s kid, ain’t you?”,“Say, it’s a donation party, isn’t it?” Billy did not see Harold wink at the twins, but picked up his mower and started across the lawn at a trot.,“She can’t, you know; she and sister have to work hard to make what we spend now. I don’t do half enough myself.”,“She’s the swellest looking one in the whole school,” he whispered to his smiling mother.,“Tremendous long visit,” Billy taunted; “what’d you come for? Another donation for my new sister?”,“Only little girls see fairies ever,” was the reply.,“They’ve stolen her, all right. I don’t know why, but I know who,—it’s the Ha’nt people!” Billy panted, coming out of the Lodge.,Jimmy was taken by surprise. Billy was his favorite play-mate, and the whip had disappeared before he realized the import of the attack, and he thus lost any advantage he might have gained while Billy’s hands were busy. But the words roused Jimmy’s anger. No boy had a right to interfere between him and his sisters; and he struggled to his feet and launched some telling blows..