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Betty playfully thrust a small forefinger into one of the fresh biscuits on the table and bore it, impaled on the rosy weapon, triumphantly to her plate. This was for the amusement of Moses, but instead of laughing as he was expected to do, he eyed his little sister with assumed indifference.,“Try agin, Mose, now not too hard! Easy like! There! Jest a leetle bit more! Stop! Hold on! Shucks! Everythink’s went wrong! Here, we’ll start agin.”,“You had very soon to fight for the Douglases, didn’t you, Roderick Dhu?” she said, as Mrs. Bennett covered her with an apron, and Billy took her up and went toward the house.,“’Pears to me, Pat Bliggins, you haven’t been listenin’ proper to the story. These men rode a ship not a cayuse.”,In the house, meanwhile, affairs were proceeding quite as happily as those out of doors. The hostess fluctuated between the parlor and kitchen. She was preparing a repast not only for the workers present, but also for the men-folk who would presently arrive to take them to their respective homes. Excused from quilting, she nevertheless managed to spend considerable time with her guests. Mrs. Mifsud was a lady who aspired to literary attainments. She had read “Beulah,” “Vashti,” “Lucile,” “St. Elmo” and many other books of like calibre. She felt that her talents were practically wasted, living in what she termed a desert, yet she strove, when occasion offered, by elegance of deportment and conversation to enhance her gifts. She often spoke tenderly of the late Mr. Mifsud who, in spite of the fact that his face had been adorned with bristling side-whiskers of an undeniable red, had shown in other ways some signs of intelligence and feeling. He had been carried off by the shingles. According to Mrs. Mifsud’s account, her deeply-lamented spouse had considered the tall attenuated form of his wife “willowy,” her long thin black hair “a crown of glory,” her worn narrow countenance with its sharp nose and coal-black eyes, “seraphic.”,“Well, time is near up younguns; has any one a question to arsk?”,“My eye!” exclaimed Clarence, mockingly shading his eyes from his sister’s radiance, “She’s got her joy-bells on, what’s the stunt?”,Mrs. Bennett was setting the table. She put down a pile of plates, and a new anxiety came into her careworn face. “A child? I told Mr. Patton I couldn’t take one.”,“That’s the reason. She says a boy will spoil the part; won’t get the shivers like she will. She thinks a minstrel can’t—can’t minstrelize properly without the shivers.”,Across to the girls’ side he flew. He knew Jean. She would manage somehow, no matter what the difficulty. And he did not trust her without reason. She was already in her shining misty robe that was to change her from Rain to Dew; but she caught the gray mantle, covered herself with it as she ran, and was in the wings almost as soon as Billy.,St. Elmo’s face brightened with intelligence. He broke into the story to give a graphic account of how a little yellow chicken of his sister’s had got “dwownded” in the pig-trough.,In desperation he stood still, gazing at the windows above; reprimanding the dog sharply when he whined, though his fingers unconsciously patted away the sting of the rebuke..