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On reaching the hay-loft all were seated with the least possible degree of discomfort on upturned soap-boxes and apple-boxes. Betty covered both windows with blankets and lit a lantern. She had constructed a pasteboard box with a large square opening and now set the lantern in such a way that a picture placed at the opening in the box was illuminated so that all could see it clearly. Betty showed her pictures in a well arranged order and her lively imagination supplied the connecting links in the story her lantern “slides” unfolded. They came to the crest of the gorge. “We’ll have to slow up and zig-zag down carefully or they’ll hear us an’ get away,” Billy suggested. A low rumble of thunder was heard in the distance and a flash of lightning made the coal-oil lamp look like a bilious spot in the room..

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“I can walk,” she said, struggling to be put down. The pianist walked on the stage as the eyes of Mrs. Wopp and Moses rested on Betty. Howard Eliot had not taken his gaze from Nell Gordon expecting momentarily to catch her glance and to be rewarded by a smile. A smile radiated her fair face, but alas! It was not for him. 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.” “Yes, you shall be our dear little girl.” Mrs. Bennett took the forlorn child in her motherly arms and kissed her. “You’re tired and hungry, too, aren’t you?”.