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May Nell looked at him a minute before speaking. “You like doing things, but you don’t like work. Isn’t work doing things?”,“Why, Billy, what has happened to make you think so?”,St. Elmo’s face brightened with intelligence. He broke into the story to give a graphic account of how a little yellow chicken of his sister’s had got “dwownded” in the pig-trough.,The Sheriff was a small man with fair, curly hair like a girl’s; but there was that in his eye that reinforced his pistol, made the big fellow quail, the other mutter a low warning. The two lifted the chest by its strong handles and stepped out.,Had he but dreamed on for an hour or so he would have returned, rested, refreshed, the cheery boy that helped to make the Bennett house a home. But a voice in the road above startled him. Only a word was spoken, a greeting; but it was surly and foreign, Italian.,IT was a gray, cold day, unusual for May, the kind of day that accords with ill-nature. It reminded Billy of the incident of the opera when Rain and Storm, driven by his own insistence, had blown in on the stage quite out of season, and dragged off with them the remnants of winter. For the first Sunday since May Nell’s coming he took his wheel after dinner and went off alone. He was in accord with the sullen sky and air. In the morning he had answered his mother angrily; because Bouncer wished to play instead of coming through the gate when called, Billy had slammed it on his tail, knowing well that in a happier mood he would have been more careful.,This account of the abruptly ended career of her predecessor was somewhat disturbing to Nell.,“Lan’ sakes, here’s friend neighbor,” exclaimed Mrs. Wopp entering the room from the kitchen, “yer jist in time to help this here pore overworked teacher with some papers she brung home from the school.”,“She’s a reglar show-lady,” defended Moses. This was hardly a strategic move from Moses, as he had just asserted they had been doing nothing.,“Jethro barks with his mouth an’ smiles with his tail,” said Betty.,“You young scamp, you found water, didn’t you, more than you needed? For the love of St. Patrick, if it isn’t the spalpeen that split his sides laughing at me falling on the ice yesterday!”,“Moses, you git to the barn an’ hunt the aigs, an’ min’ you look in the haystack; that ole yaller hen has been wantin’ ter set in the nigh corner of it.”.