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“Salute your partner, swing—your partner.” Mrs. Wopp who had expected “Swing on the corner,” had seized the unfortunate Mr. Wopp and in spite of his struggles was spinning him violently around, while their respective partners stood and looked helplessly on.,Mrs. Wopp’s bonnet with its imitation osprey looked as though adorned with fragments of barbed-wire. Her jet earrings seemed entirely superfluous as the lobes of her generous ears glowed like rubies.,A faint sound caught his ear, as of clinking coins and soft voices. People there! He had thought it before, now he was certain. Were not both brothers away?,“All this turnin’ is good for the liver too you know,” she continued, as her son’s vinegary expression remained unaltered.,“At my brother’s Mrs. Wopp. He had just acquired it, so of course little proficiency was yet attained.”,“Dad an’ Mosey don’t look orful happy,” she laughed. “Smile at me, Mosey.”,“You remember that story about a man who died for love of a girl because he knew he ought not to marry her? I thought that sort kind of noble, but you said there was nobler. Do you remember?”,Jean hid a queer little smile that she could not repress.,The boy gave her a squeeze that made her last words come in jerks. “That’s a mean trick to play on a fellow,—chuck such a responsibility on a twelve-year-old. Say I must or I mustn’t, mamma.” He caught her hand and gently tweaked her fingers.,And Billy seeing sweet potatoes sticking out of hot ashes, and other luxuries in evidence, concluded that some business was “doin’ among the girls,” where he wouldn’t be welcome. He went back to the “Front,” where some of the contractors were having a violent altercation over the meaning of certain specifications. The Boss soon arbitrated successfully, and things moved “lively” for a short time, when the[55] banging of a dishpan announced dinner at “the hotel.”,In the hours of joy that followed, joy known only to boys and farms in conjunction, Billy,—and it was unusual for him,—more than once recalled his mother’s words; heeded them to the extent of bidding Harold a reluctant good-bye when the sun was still blazing high above the horizon. But when, on his way home, he came to the branching of the road his good resolution weakened. He looked back. The sun was surely more than an hour high. He would have time to go up the hill road to the “Ha’nt.” And, beside that, he wished to look at the river where its divided flow encircled a tiny, shrub-grown island.,“You are not a baby, my son; you’ll soon be a man, and it’s time you did your own thinking. Don’t be late for dinner.”.