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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.” “Yet let him sleep downstairs,” Edith persisted. “Gee! Betty,” laughed the boy, “yer eyes look orful yet, this is the fust good shake my sides hev felt to-day, it’s jist been ’orrible the way Mar was jawred.”.
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“My conscience! How lovely and stylish you look!” The child, accustomed to elegant dress, praised with discriminating eyes. “Isobel, play one of your pieces, let’s see how your recital helped you to-day.” Mrs. Mifsud, in the lead of the rescuing party, ran through the garden gate in time to see St. Elmo fall headlong, his feet having become entangled in the long rank grass near the fence. It had been hard to persuade her, though her heart was aching to join the fun. “Huh! Do you suppose I’d be a common snake-charmer?”.
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