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Nell’s mirth at Betty’s choice of a hymn could be stifled no longer. Howard’s studied aloofness yielded before her laughter and the hand that was not supporting Betty caught and pressed the small dimpled fingers of Nell.,“Billy! My—boy!” Mrs. Bennett bent over him; and he felt a tear where her cheek touched his.,What if they should find him? Gee! Couldn’t a boy run faster than a man? Another sound banished these thoughts; wheels on the road, whose thick coat of dust almost hushed the ring of metal tires. A horseman before, and now a wagon; this was an unusual amount of travel for that lonely road.,Now he crept through the brush by the roadside till he came close under the west wall. The setting sun blazed red fire at him from the windows, reminding him sharply of the hour.,All went well for some blocks. There was a flattering audience at each front door; a few honored the pageant by following. These were mostly mothers of the younger children, who knew the possibilities of such an aggregation of animals and boys.,“You keep still, Betsey! I’m going to watch!” he exclaimed, as if some one had spoken.,“What is the matter with your hand?” May Nell asked as she drew the work-worn hand down and patted it. “It doesn’t feel like my mama’s. And you have only one ring, a plain one. Are your others in the bank? My mama has ever so many,—diamonds, rubies, and such a big sapphire, perfectly exquisite! And they look elegant on her hand,—she has a perfectly beautiful hand.”,He had hardly recovered from his laugh when two little girls appeared at the gateway. “There’s Twinnies! Come in, Kiddies, and see my new sister,” he called, as they hesitated.,“Billy, I don’t like the look of your eyes; you’re reading too much at night,” his mother said one evening when he was helping with the dishes. “You must go to bed earlier.”,She put back his tumbled hair, looked long into his eyes, realizing with a shock that she was looking up. Her little boy was gone.,Vigorously cleaning up the still bewildered victim, Mrs. Wopp hurled fresh orders.,He had left his traps,—the fight had sent all else flying out of his mind. No matter. He could set them in some vineyard. Already the short grass on the hills was brown, and many of the wild flowers were past their blooming. The rabbits would be seeking the tender green of the vines, the purpling alfalfa, standing lush and sweet, ready for mowing..