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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.,Relieved, yet with his nerves quivering Billy plunged into the deep woods of the higher altitudes. The air was unusually hot and stifling, and his eyes watered. “Fire in the woods somewhere,” he murmured, recognizing the odor of smoke.,“Here, you poor darling, take mine! And don’t be afraid—you’ll find your mother before long.” Edith’s words were brave, but her own eyes were moist.,“You are not a baby, my son; you’ll soon be a man, and it’s time you did your own thinking. Don’t be late for dinner.”,Al Newman arranged all the theatre parties for his wife and guests. He opened up the piano as he spoke and turned to the musician.,“There aint no such things as fairies anyways.” Peter Stolway always was a doubting Thomas, so Betty tossed her head in scorn as she replied, “There is so, cos I’ve saw them with my very own eyes.”,LITTLE by little they learned something of May Nell’s story. Her mother had intended to start for New York on the morning of the earthquake, having been called there by her own mother’s illness. Mrs. Smith, though held to the last by household business, had let her little daughter go to visit a widowed aunt and cousin, who lived in a down-town hotel, and who were to bring May Nell to meet her mother at the Ferry Building the next morning. But where at night had stood the hotel with its many human lives housed within, the next morning’s sunshine fell upon a heap of ruins burning fiercely. A stranger rescued May Nell, though her aunt and cousin had to be left behind, pinned to their fiery death.,Mrs. Wopp’s voice, a dramatic outburst before which almost any cloud would have quailed, filled the bedroom. Betty turned to Nell Gordon, “I hope all yer clouds’ll hev silver linin’s, Miss Gordon,” she smiled.,“Yes, Mosey, I jist want to go to my mornin’-glory garding to tell it good-night.” She rubbed her sleepy tear-stained eyes.,“Never mind Mosey, Next Monday I’m goin’ to ask Mar to let me stay home and turn the nasty mouldy machine.”,“It’s only your notion, Billy, that mother’s cream is best; but I’ve been very happy making it for you.” She began at once to serve it.,The captivating music of Grieg’s “Butterfly” floated through the room and Moses watched the white supple fingers of the player with breathless eagerness..