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By the time the deep apple-pie was brought in, raised in the centre by a cup, he had become facetious, and turning a mirthful countenance to Nell, he whispered audibly, “Isn’t it just like Fuji Yama?” Before Nell could answer, Betty broke in.,

In the house, meanwhile, affairs were proceeding quite as happily as those out of doors. The hostess fluctuated between the parlor and kitchen. She was preparing a repast not only for the workers present, but also for the men-folk who would presently arrive to take them to their respective homes. Excused from quilting, she nevertheless managed to spend considerable time with her guests. Mrs. Mifsud was a lady who aspired to literary attainments. She had read “Beulah,” “Vashti,” “Lucile,” “St. Elmo” and many other books of like calibre. She felt that her talents were practically wasted, living in what she termed a desert, yet she strove, when occasion offered, by elegance of deportment and conversation to enhance her gifts. She often spoke tenderly of the late Mr. Mifsud who, in spite of the fact that his face had been adorned with bristling side-whiskers of an undeniable red, had shown in other ways some signs of intelligence and feeling. He had been carried off by the shingles. According to Mrs. Mifsud’s account, her deeply-lamented spouse had considered the tall attenuated form of his wife “willowy,” her long thin black hair “a crown of glory,” her worn narrow countenance with its sharp nose and coal-black eyes, “seraphic.”,

“Well, Flash can’t do that.”,

“But I don’t wish May Nell away, mother, do you?”

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The best of all was a letter from Jimmy, scrawled with his left hand.,

Friction and mustard, hot water bags without and hot tea within soon set Billy’s teeth at rest.,

Mrs. Wopp came down the path walking as briskly as her generous avoirdupois would permit. She was followed by Ebenezer Wopp whose coat seemed to cover some abnormal growth as though a watermelon might be lodged there. It was a bundle of socks for his wife to mend during her visit to Mrs. Mifsud’s ranch.,

Nell’s mirth at Betty’s choice of a hymn could be stifled no longer. Howard’s studied aloofness yielded before her laughter and the hand that was not supporting Betty caught and pressed the small dimpled fingers of Nell.