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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.,

“Now you’re Fair Ellen and I’m defending you at Goblin Cave!” He thrust her behind him, held her tight with one arm, while he flourished the carving knife and called on Clan Alpine’s foes to appear.,

“No, my son.” The answer was more sincere than a few weeks before she could have believed possible. The coming of the child had taken from her life many hours of association with Billy, sweet as only mothers know; yet May Nell’s influence had softened and refined Billy, enlarged his vision.,

“Yes, he did. And he said, awfully solemn, ‘Remember, Billy, no one but a coward strikes his foe in the back. A boy of mine who could do that,—I don’t think I should wish him to wear this.’ And he pointed to his Loyal Legion button. O mother, I hit Jimmy first, I hit him in the back, and I—I kicked him in the stomach! I’ve disgraced papa’s button forever!” His last words were a groan, and he hid his face.

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Yet it was very strange, they were all happy! Happier, she felt, than her own mother with maids and money, gems, rich gowns, and her motor car at command. Why was it? “Those that won’t work shouldn’t eat.” Could that be true? Then she should not eat, for she never worked. She wondered how it would seem to work.,

“What song would you like, Betty?”,

Norah Bliggins carried in a little basket several carrots of various sizes and complexions, all carefully scrubbed as became respectable members of the vegetable family, and shining as sweet and clean as the face of the child. These must have put to shame their forked brother, for that perturbed carrot rolled heavily to a corner and hid his grimy visage.,

CHAPTER XII.—THE AUTOGRAPH QUILT.