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Presently they came to others of the posse, and after that to a long line of farmers and other citizens, fighting desperately but successfully against the dying flames.,

Everything at the dinner table was in keeping to Betty’s eyes, from the translucent china cups to the dainty blown bubbles of confection served with ice-cream; all so fragile that even one of her small brown fingers might crush them. She laughed as she thought of the annihilating effect, should Moses appear. The ices and the angel cake and the concocted kisses of whiteof-egg confirmed in her mind the suspicion that her wonderful holiday was a dream. “So your name is Betty Wopp?”,

Howard sat back in his chair and thought of the possibilities of seeing Nell. He reflected that they were as good as engaged. Mrs. Wopp had given her diagnosis of the case enigmatically, perhaps, but with a degree of accuracy denoting keen observation on the evening of his last visit at the Wopp household. For fully a fraction of a minute Nell had let him hold her hand, and then her face all dimpling had turned to say good-night. He was rehearsing what he should say next time she dimpled so irresistibly and he breathed anathemas on his asinine conduct in being so shy and tardy. He was brought to the immediate present by Moses who was regarding an ice-cream soda with suspicion.,

“Mamma, Pretty’s finishing the lawn for me; can’t I rub the floors right now? The Gang’s coming and we want to do a lot to-day.”

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Moses Wopp, sitting with Clarence Crump on a bench near the door had hitherto been enjoying himself hugely. Now fearing injury to his beloved dog he rushed boldly to the rescue. Clarence followed more slowly. It was but the work of a few moments to separate the combatants and remove them from the church. Jethro borne away to a safe distance in the arms of Moses still uttered occasional rumbling growls, each individual hair on his spine standing erect. Clarence kept a firm hold on Snappy’s collar.,

Mrs. Bennett hugged her closer and patted her cheek softly, but let the passion of tears spend itself a little before trying the comfort of words. Then she questioned of the child’s parents, her past life, and the events just preceding the catastrophe in San Francisco, that she herself might better understand how to shield and make happy the little waif that a terrible, heaving earth had cast into her home, her arms.,

“‘You bet’ isn’t nice,” the child chid gently, and waited a moment before continuing. “My papa won’t let my mama work. He went to South America to get rich. When he comes back, he wrote in a letter to me, I shall be as rich as a princess.”,

Presently they came to others of the posse, and after that to a long line of farmers and other citizens, fighting desperately but successfully against the dying flames.