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“The fleetin’ of youth is most sartin,” answered his wife, coining this epigram on the shortness of life’s spring-time, and sighing as she spoke. The good lady herself was looking through a stereoscope at some views and finding one of Niagara Falls she endeavored to cheer her despondent husband.,

Before they turned into Main Street, however, the procession was in fair alignment, and the solemnity of the moment hushed all chatter. Billy’s most personal disappointment was Bouncer, who, unhappy because he could not caper in freedom at Billy’s heels, let his lovely, bushy tail, that usually waved above his back in a graceful curve, hang limp and dusty between his legs; while from drooping head and sad eyes, he looked reproachfully at Billy every time the latter ran past.,

“Stop!” his upheld warning hand said to May Nell. He found his knife, cut his lashings, and beckoned to her vehemently. He waited only for the crash of glass and sash, when he threw himself outstretched on the ground, and pushed the board hard against the lower edge of the window frame.,

CHAPTER VIII.—BETTY VISITS THE CITY OF HER DREAMS.

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“Giving music lessons isn’t work. I’d love to do that.”,

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—,

There was a stir in the room. His mother stood—May Nell, too—and the cat stretched lazily on the couch. Sister Edith followed the guests to the porch, as did his mother and the little girl—the room was empty! He opened the kitchen door, tried to hasten noiselessly, yet thought he clattered like a threshing machine. Into the living-room he crept, and lumbered softly up the stairs that seemed a mile long.,

“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.”