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In his anticipation of the Sunday afternoon treat in store for him, Moses dreamed all that night of little dark-skinned men running round after him with bowls of rice and jabbing him with chop-sticks.,Zalhambra was a vaudeville artist. His was the star act on each bill. He was undeniably a genius; it needed but a few bars of fortissimo plus crescendo to realize that he was a virtuoso of the first rank. When he played a Rag the audience shouted with delight; but when he sprinkled torrential cadenzas through the dizzying syncopation, like some mighty giant tossing meteors into a handful of fire-crackers, something like an electric shock stirred his hearers.,The little room was rude and bare, but Billy loved it. He thought the massive beams like the ribs of a ship, and planned to hang between them all his ship pictures. Anything relating to the sea fired his imagination. It gave him a sense of manliness to sleep there alone; and when the heavier gusts of night wind rocked the tower, and each revolution of the big wheel splashed the water against the tank, as waves lap a ship’s side, he dreamed himself on the ocean, called himself “Captain.”,“Oh, the kids’—boys’ dogs are mostly old or else too fat to run, like Bouncer. I guess the rabbit can get away,—too soon, perhaps. We’ll have you for Fair Ellen.”,“Glory be! It’s pulled apart at the other end!” ejaculated the perspiring assistant.,Howard Eliot guided his charges through the mazes of the city to a restaurant. Moses with the perennial appetite of fourteen ate silently and steadily, not omitting one item on the menu. He gorged.,“Jist hold on there, Mose, we wanter play a game of checkers on yer pants.” At this jibe Moses turned and held up a clenched fist as warning of a potential thrashing which the boys knew would never materialize. Moses was slow to active wrath.,“There isn’t any Maskey’s any more,” May Nell mourned; “just ashes and old irons where used to be such oceans of goodies in such beautiful boxes and dishes.”,“What’s the Golden Text, Norer?”,“Of course they won’t be too tired! The kids have pluck.”,According to plan, Billy’s mother had called and detained him while the score of laughing youngsters gathered and stood silently around the table. When he was running across the lawn again, his face washed and hair combed, matters he thought might well have been omitted when time was so precious, he was struck by the strange stillness. What had happened to stop every tongue at once? He ran on faster, through the trellis gate, and halted, transfixed. A shout greeted him. Each one waved a small flag, and sang lustily—,“An’ where did you hear it, my dear?” she queried, cautiously feeling her way..