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Jean’s face fell, and she didn’t look at Billy when she spoke. “My mother says I mustn’t wrestle any more.”,“I sorter hoped Moses’d take arter Uncle Josh, too,” she said, regretfully.,“Alone?”,Billy was the sun, dressed in a pale yellow tunic, and crowned with a fillet of sun-bursts cut from gilt paper. He came but a little way on the stage from the south for each of his short solos; and the others pelted him back. Especially did he hide from Rain behind Cloud, a tall girl in a small ocean of gray tulle.,Not far behind the democrat came a light buggy drawn by a team of greys. Howard Eliot and Nell Gordon sat therein.,“She said, the Queen of Sheba did, that I’d be in danger, and some one would save me. And I’d have a s’prise, and a hus—husband, and fi-five c-chil— children!” She wailed again and hid her face on Mrs. Bennett’s shoulder.,You can bet your old sweet life,,Her questions brought long and wonderful tales of Billy’s younger life; of Edith when she, too, was a little girl. The child helped to set the table, carried in bread, salad plates, and jelly. “It shakes like the fat woman at the circus when she laughed. How do you make jelly?”,Every back bent a little lower. Every face flushed a little rosier under its coat of grime. Praise from Billy was all they asked.,She stooped and kissed him.,“O Billy!” Jean gasped, fear for the little, delicate girl in that eery place lending sympathy to her voice.,Billy had been reeling off stanzas of his favorite “Lady of the Lake,”—“by the yard,” Mrs. Bennett said, acting it as he recited, somewhat retarding the work and endangering the dishes. Now he dropped his towel, caught up his mother and raced with her around the room. He was so strong that she was almost helpless in his grasp..