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“Moses, ef you hev finished yer supper, change yer good clothes an’ go git the cows,” directed his mother. “Betty run an’ fasten up the hens, else the coyotes’ll git them.”,This small boy seemed to accept the limitations of his lot with a Micawber-like philosophy. Indeed it may easily have escaped his youthful notice, that there were persons in the world who did not have to spend a day in bed while their clothing was being washed. To Mannel a second set of garments, even of so simple a character as those he constantly wore, would have seemed untold wealth.,“Not many of us would, Mrs. Wopp,” remarked Mrs. Bliggins, a small fair woman with a round placid countenance. “What with cookin’, an’ washin’, an’ cleanin’, an’ buttermakin’, an’ hundreds of other things, there’s not much time for fancy work.”,“O, Mar, won’t the heathens’ faces shine, too!” exclaimed Betty, joyously, as the coins slipped into her box with an opulent clatter.,A grey light began to be visible through the windows. Whereupon horse blankets were pressed into service and the accusing daylight was shut out. Some of the more conservative members of the party began to think of home. Among these was Ebenezer Wopp who had not danced since the opening set. He had sat for some hours in a comatose condition, except when he was aroused for a few moments by a nudge or pinch administered by his energetic wife.,It must have been hours past midnight when Billy’s chattering voice startled his mother. She had heard no bell; the boy himself stood by her bedside; she could see him dimly against the window.,Several hands waved wildly and a chorus of voices eagerly broke in; through the childish babel could be heard a lisping narrative.,The ivy and the Idean vine.’,Friction and mustard, hot water bags without and hot tea within soon set Billy’s teeth at rest.,“An’ was the pore little feller lookin’ fer Joner?” said Mrs. Wopp. She spoke pityingly, yet she could not avoid some slight feeling of satisfaction over this evident tribute to her powers of biblical narrative.,Mrs. Bennett was setting the table. She put down a pile of plates, and a new anxiety came into her careworn face. “A child? I told Mr. Patton I couldn’t take one.”,Here she produced a picture of a nest of young robins, their beaks wide open for a tempting morsel hanging from the bill of father robin..