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“We must go right back,” Jimmy declared, turning to the door of the kitchen and thrusting a package within.,The resourceful Betty was not to be undone by this embarrassing accident. She used the silk shawl to groom the ostrich and to mop the disfiguring stains from Moses’ face. The helmet was discarded and the aigret of red hair rose instantly undaunted, waving a lively accompaniment to the boy’s continued exertions to follow the pace set by Betty’s imagination.,“Arsk a blessin’, Ebenezer.”,On Moses Wopp devolved the responsibility of driving the ladies of the household over the two miles of prairie lying between the Wopp ranch and that of Mrs. Mifsud. Betty, too, was going. The Ladies’ Aid did not meet every day, nor had it always on hand the alluring business of an autograph quilt, on which flourished in outlined boldness the name of every man, woman and child in the district and many out of it.,Billy suspected his mother was waiting for him; he must hurry, he thought. Yet he couldn’t resist showing off a bit. He bent over his wheel, went by the girls with a rush and a “Hello!” made a neat turn, wheeled a figure “8” around a team or two, shouted, “Don’t frame up anything there!” as he passed a second time, and whizzed through the arch in his own high hedge with one wheel in the air.,What more might he do to hasten the Saturday work? He could not chop the kindling or fill the wood boxes. The weeding! It was behind. Both mother and sister had reminded him repeatedly, but he had forgotten. Only yesterday his sister had made tidy the flower beds that flanked the house; but the melons, the vegetables,—they were not done, and that would make no noise.,“No worse ’n you, I reckon,” was the rueful response. Billy’s appearance justified Jimmy’s speech; for freckles were standing out large and ghastly from one or two very white spots on the younger boy’s battered face. “Can you get home alone?”,“There’s a better way,” Billy called, when the deputy leading started to climb back as he had come. “Follow the creek; there’s a trail.”,They came to the crest of the gorge. “We’ll have to slow up and zig-zag down carefully or they’ll hear us an’ get away,” Billy suggested.,“Was it as bad as that?” She smiled, and smoothed back the thick, tumbled hair.,“Are you hungry, Isobel?” questioned her mother.,Even the white chickens followed in a cackling bunch as they always did when Billy appeared at this hour, for it was almost feeding time. And the pigeons wheeled and whirred, lighting almost under foot only to be up and off again, a flash of white and gray..
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