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“Yet let him sleep downstairs,” Edith persisted.,Now the dance was a two-step and Mrs. Wopp, who drew a hard and fast line at round dances, declaring they were instigated by the evil one, sat and looked on talking to Betty meanwhile.,All were silent for a little. Most of them had been more than once to San Francisco’s celebrated dealer in sweets.,“Hurt?”,“O Billy!” Jean gasped, fear for the little, delicate girl in that eery place lending sympathy to her voice.,“Obedience, thy name is cats,” Billy preached solemnly.,“She’s a reglar show-lady,” defended Moses. This was hardly a strategic move from Moses, as he had just asserted they had been doing nothing.,“I like Sunday School best ’cause I do things there.”,“Last November,” piped Evelyn.,“Lady of the Lake?” she finished quickly in a question. “Do you know that, too? I love it.”,As far as general knowledge went, Betty was a complete encyclopedia ahead of Moses. That youth’s brains had too many labyrinthine passages through which knowledge meandered and got lost to ever lay claim to erudition. As for creative ability, Betty imbibed ideas at every pore. She took odd moments of her busy days and patching them together made hours of creative joy, a sort of mental Joseph’s coat of rainbow brightness.,“Moses!” called husband and wife, simultaneously. Mrs. Wopp’s voice spanned an interval of about a dozen semi-tones, and as it always grew in volume in direct ratio to the emergency of the duty to be imposed, the last syllable of her son’s name fell on that wretched boy’s ear like a clap of thunder. Mr. Wopp’s accents remained on nearly all occasions at the same even degree of meekness. Nature had not given him the temperament to indulge in crescendos or double fortes..
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