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Here his laughter became a series of concussions decidedly menacing to his well-being.,“Hold your grouch, Sour,” Harold expostulated.,“There’s nary a piece left, that greedy boy et it orl up.”,Next followed a buckboard gaily painted red. Mrs. Mifsud and her daughter Maria aged fourteen who had taken a “quarter” of music lessons and was now the organist of the church, were occupants. Between them was wedged the pet of the family St. Elmo Mifsud a child of four. St. Elmo wore long chestnut curls and an angelic expression. Clarence Egerton Crump, Mrs. Mifsud’s nephew who was visiting his aunt and cousins, accompanied the family on his wheel.,“Yeh, Mar says I’m a reglar jographer I like it so much.”,“Don’t Job look jist like Mariar Mifsud goin’ to meetin’,” gurgled Betty.,“There’s nary a piece left, that greedy boy et it orl up.”,“Here, slow-pokes, drop yer carrots in this here bin.” He indicated an empty oat-bin.,His words had a new ring, and his mother was wise enough to respect the young independence in them. “What brought you to this decision, Billy?”,If he was more thoughtful, quiet, at home, his hours of play were more keenly enjoyed as they grew daily fewer. He had found a “dandy job” that would not take him away from home; he could still mow the lawn, and do the chores. He was glad now that he had learned various parts of the housework, for he was to be janitor and messenger at one of the banks, a fact to be told his mother as a surprise on the last day of school.,Mrs. Wopp’s eyes fell on the stained shawl.,“Hooray, Billy! Thirteen to-morrow! But this is the day we celebrate!”.