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“Yes, Mosey, I jist want to go to my mornin’-glory garding to tell it good-night.” She rubbed her sleepy tear-stained eyes.,
“I sorter hoped Moses’d take arter Uncle Josh, too,” she said, regretfully.,
“O Billy,” his mother laughed, “you need not decide to-night. Besides, it was all Bess’s nonsense. I can’t quite imagine my heedless boy in a pulpit.”,
Thy high commands shall quick be done.”
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“Then where are they?” demanded Mrs. Wopp. “You are as bad as Anias and Sapphire who was carried out feet foremost. Go when I tell you. An’ you Betty, go upstairs an’ mend that orful, yawnin’ gap in yer stockin’. Now we hev got rid of the younguns Howard, will you read out what you was larfin’ at?”,
Billy went to the door and looked after them. No one was in sight. Harold, the twins, and May Nell, too, were gone. What could it mean? He looked back at the clock. Nearly ten. Usually the Gang gathered earlier than this, hung around and hurried him with his work, many putting in lusty strokes, that Billy, the favorite, might the sooner be released. But now even Jean, his stanch second in all the fun going, was late. He had expected to be late himself; he always was. But he, who planned most of the sport in spite of doing more work than any of them, had this day expected his schemes to be well launched before he could join in them.,
“Sure. All the kids. But Clarence especially,—he’s my son, you know.” Billy grinned.,
It was Saturday afternoon on a busy street in the city. Moses Wopp and Clarence Crump, at whose home the former was spending the week end, were on their way to the skating-rink. If they had wanted to skate there, the streets would have accommodated them with a sufficiently smooth surface, as an early frost had rimed the pavement.
Vigorously all joined in the closing hymn and Mrs. Wopp’s high soprano could be heard above all the other voices. A sense of duty well performed added even greater power to the vocal billowing.
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She stood at the end of the creaking wharf, and one little bare arm was lifted high. She held a small fruit jar filled with water and beet juice. It was awkward, but Billy had insisted on the fruit jar,—“So’s it will be sure to break; it’s the only kind of a bottle that always will break.”
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The child reared without pets was delighted with the animal life about her; the cats, old Bouncer, the white chickens, and pigeons cooing in the loft.
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“They’d look purtier, Glory, ef you’d put more colors in,” commented Mrs. Wopp.
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>“My conscience! How lovely and stylish you look!” The child, accustomed to elegant dress, praised with discriminating eyes.
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