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“Sunday School comes first.”,The Bennetts’ was one of the oldest places in town, and the most beautiful. It was near the heart of the growing village ambitiously calling itself a city. Level lawns protected by high hedges and shaded by many trees, spread amply around the house and back to the first terrace, where a tangle of berry vines covered trellises that shut off a lower level devoted to vegetables. Beyond this was the chickens’ domain, rock-dotted acres that sloped sharply to where Runa Creek boiled over its stony bed. Here mother hens fluttered and scolded while web-footed broods paddled in the edges of the stream.,“Oh Mar,” asked Moses as they passed a brilliantly colored and illuminated poster, “Is them the actor people?”,The kettle which had been boiling itself hoarse for the last hour, was now called into requisition.,“I hope my breakfast won’t be quite so—”,“All ready?” cried Captain Billy. “Are you ready, Ladybird?”,The unstinted praise of the children in the operetta, the aftermath of buzz about the “show” at school,—this excitement lasted for a day or so; but on this lowering Sunday tired nature put in a claim for her own; and relaxed nerves were irritably near the surface.,“Do you understand them Betty?”,Mrs. Wopp’s suggestion had an immediate and salutary effect on the boy.,Notwithstanding Moses’ endeavors to be attractive, Isobel Crump’s voice, as she addressed her brother’s friend was so frigid that her words penetrated his ear like sharply-pointed icicles.,Mrs. Bennett called. The cats walked leisurely to the hearth, sat down, one on either side, and began to eat, each from his own side of the plate. They were as deliberate and dainty as well-bred children.,“Three you should say. Don’t you live in the dreamland of music? Eat your own breakfast, or you’ll be late for the train.”.