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“Here are more beads of wampum, Betty, as I have no garden.” Nell Gordon’s silver donation added appreciably to the weight of the collection box.,“Here’s to our mothers,,The Queen of Sheba in gypsy dress, and her harum-scarum train buzzing with gossip and exclamation, flocked in. Bess looked magnificent in a mass of draperies that included every Oriental thing to be found in several families.,“Land o’ Goshen, child,” shrieked Mrs. Wopp throwing up her hands in dismay, “whatever hev you been doin’ to yerself. You look jist like a wooden Injin. I wouldn’t of knowed you ef I’d met you in the streets of Judear.”,Her absorption hypnotized the others to wondering stillness. In a moment her attitude and intensity had transported them to the mysterious East, and put upon them the spell of ancient superstitions.,Billy had intended naming it The Jean, but Charley had stood for Queen Bess, Harold didn’t like either name, and George and Jimmy had objected to “girl kid names, anyway.” They had, however, unanimously compromised on The Edith, for Billy’s sister was adored privately by all of his older friends, adored openly and “tagged” by the little ones. Edith, since May Nell’s coming, suggested her name. The little girl agreed if it could be Ellen; Billy added “Fair” with her permission; and this name he painted over each paddle wheel with no opposition from the others.,Billy was skeptical, yet soon convinced, as the little girl slowly and carefully read the problems, followed his directions, and obtained correct results. A few problems were too complicated; these the boy had her mark for attack with recovered sight.,They came upon him a second later, insensible, his head bleeding from a scalp wound. Hurriedly the Sheriff lifted him close to the brook, dashed water over his face, washed out the cut a little, and bound it with his handkerchief, not untenderly if in haste; for Billy had won something more than his approval.,He went home after the engagement, walking on air and talking aloud to himself. “Gee! I don’t suppose there’s a squinch-eyed ghost of a chance for me to win that prize money; but twenty-five a month’ll pay mamma for what I eat,—and break, I guess.”,The captivating music of Grieg’s “Butterfly” floated through the room and Moses watched the white supple fingers of the player with breathless eagerness.,“No, like a prima donna,” his sister retorted.,Jean’s face fell, and she didn’t look at Billy when she spoke. “My mother says I mustn’t wrestle any more.”.