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“Oh, Betty,” he begged, “Pease dive me some.”,“And, darling, I know how to find your mother,” Edith encouraged, brushing her own moist eyes, and clasping them all in her round young arms. “I’ll have your picture taken, and get it in all the papers—”,“Arsk a dorg with a tin pail tied to his ear to smile at yer,” returned Moses, sourly.,“O, Mosey, these leaves is lovely, an’ jist look here roun’ the edge, looks like the fairies has left footprints!”,It may be that atmospheric changes helped to cause the disquiet, for in the midst of an exciting account of a fairy dancing on a moonbeam, a sudden shower descended on the barn and began to pour in a stream through a hole in the roof, immediately over Moses’ head.,THE place Billy called the Fo’castle was a tiny room in the sloping windmill tower. It was level with the second floor of the house, and a narrow, railed bridge connected it with a door in his mother’s room. Under it was the above-ground cellar, overhead the big tank. Still higher whirled the great white wings that pumped the beauty-giving water to lawn and gardens.,“I reckon it is the biggest half of some time sence those there jints was took apart,” agreed Ebenezer, with unerring diplomacy, searching through several slips of paper as though to find memoranda thereon, “I reckon I’d better git to work this very minute.”,Involved and intricate variations of “Holy smoke!” made the air sulphureous as a swaying piece of wire caught his shoulder and tore a large gash in his shirt.,“Look he’s been here,” said Betty, pointing to a small footprint in the moist soil, “An’ he’s headed down the crick.”,“What’s the trouble, dear? What were you afraid of?” she enquired, as she raised him to his feet.,He was soon at the “lodge of ample size” made the week before, not of “strong logs” but of old fence-rails and willow twigs. He wondered if the girls would be able to imagine it a “lodge,” or if May Nell and Jean, who were to come a little later, could fix it according to the poem.,“But I don’t like them to do that, Billy. They ought to stay dead till the play is done. When I see them smiling I feel as if—just as I would if you made fun of me when I cried for my mama,—it takes all the true out of the play.”.