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Mrs. Wopp was overcome with laughter at the bare memory of the picture her irate husband had presented. “Are you as old as us? We’re seven,” Vilette said a bit loftily, as she discovered herself taller than May Nell. “Miss Gordon here, made me a harnsome lace yoke fer an underwaist, an’ give it to me fer my birthday,” volunteered Mrs. Wopp..

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Yes, Billy had fainted for the first time in his[239] life. The two men, heedless of the Italian, took the boy up gently. One sat in the bed of the wagon and held Billy as easily as possible, while the other lifted May Nell to the seat, mounted beside her, and drove rapidly back to town. “Yes. And the fire worse. Why can’t you have a refugee?” Billy didn’t wait. Like all generous natures that are slow to anger, the passion once aroused possessed him to madness. He raced down the turnpike, his face aflame. Ahead he could see the Dorrs’ horse and buggy standing near the fence. Jimmy was on the ground beside the Twins; and Billy saw the whip descend more than once before he arrived. Had he known it the blows were make-believe, for moral effect alone. Jimmy was giving a lesson that his Southern breeding made him think necessary, if painful. Every back bent a little lower. Every face flushed a little rosier under its coat of grime. Praise from Billy was all they asked..