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“Where are you going to take me?” she asked, trying to equal his long stride.,

When Betty returned from school in the afternoon, she beheld snowy billowing apparel on the clothes-line. Mrs. Wopp, being very thrifty in the matter of using up flour and sugar sacks for underwear, had a motley collection of garments suspended by wooden pegs. A night-shirt of Mr. Wopp’s bore the inscription “Three Roses” dimly outlined in pink, while on the southern portion of a pair of more intimate garments could be discerned, fading into palest blue. “Great Western Mills.” The wind was causing a riotous time among the cheerful array of reconstructed sacks, and as Betty ran down the path singing “Twenty froggies went to school,” a sugar sack sleeve of Moses’ shirt embraced a flour sack bosom of his father’s undergarment; and “Pure Cane Sugar“ saluted “Ogiveme’s Mills.” Betty cheerfully performed her task of bringing in the clothes saturated with wind and sunshine. She thought the sweetest smell in the world next to morning-glories and nasturtiums was the smell of clean clothes fresh from the line.,

“Why doesn’t your mama have a man to take care of the grounds?” she questioned after she had told him something of her parents and home.,

“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.

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Moses’ intuition regarding St. Elmo’s retreat proved to be correct, and it was a sadly dejected countenance on which he gazed when he looked into the cave. Tears, dirt, and the juice of Saskatoon berries mingled on the fair sleeping face of the child, until he seemed to be the very Cree Indian he had so often personated in his play. His long curls were tangled and matted with small twigs. His diminutive brown velvet coat displayed a large rent in the elbow through which oozed a pathetic-looking suppuration of pink and white checked shirt.,

“Yes, thank you. But most my heart is hungry. Will you help me to find my mama?”,

“Better quit tarlkin’, Moses, an’ let the picter show go on so’s we kin hev supper, everythin’s laid an’ ready.”,

“No, no! Don’t, mother! I’ll run away! I’ll—” He groaned and left his sentence unfinished.