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“What’s next?” CHAPTER VIII ON STORMY SEAS “What’s next?”.

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Mrs. Wopp was much too energetically engaged to enter into fuller argument. She busied herself preparing the tubs for rinsing, singing in a high tremolo, “Shall we gather at the river?” All went well with the preparation; and on a glorious spring night in the full moon, the town and countryside jammed the Opera House “to its eyebrows,” Billy said, looking through the peephole in the curtain to the high window seats crowded with boys. “But I asked for her, mamma.” Billy’s voice lost its exuberance. His mother never had looked so tired, he thought for the second time that day. Billy heard the pitiful cries of the children, Evelyn’s the loudest, though Vilette was receiving the blows. Every drop of blood in his veins was a spark of fire. An unsuspected power came from somewhere, mysteriously. He felt himself lift, expand, grow strong enough to battle with an ox. He dropped his wheel, sprang upon Jimmy from behind, and bore him down. In an instant he had snatched the whip, broken it, and tossed the pieces into the field beyond. “You bully! You skunk! To horsewhip girls! Why don’t you take one of your own size?”.