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“Here are more beads of wampum, Betty, as I have no garden.” Nell Gordon’s silver donation added appreciably to the weight of the collection box.,Mrs. Bennett heard anxiety in the voices of the visitors, and came out.,Betty picked him a small bouquet. She knew that in the child’s hot grasp the flowers would soon droop and she loved them so dearly that she grieved to see them wither and die. St. Elmo, however, was not satisfied.,“I’ve watched, and called to him from the inside; but he only stands and mews. Did you ever see him climb up and open the screen?”,“How much will you pay fer them fer my missionary box?” bargained the child. “Will four shinin’ new quarters do?”,A certain wide lawn, starred with white clover and daisies came unwelcome to his mind. He ought that moment to be chopping off clover tops.,He was not more inquisitive than other boys, yet the mystery, the many uncanny tales told of the old house, fired him with a desire to know its secrets. Long before he was born a murder had left its stain there. The owners, suspected but unconvicted, moved away; and for years the house stared vacantly at passers. The coming of the Italians had only increased its bad name. Late travellers on the lonely road declared that shadowy forms and flickering lights passed the lower windows and down into the cavernous basement; yet no sounds ever came from behind the barred doors.,“Can’t I see the faywies some time, Betty?” asked St. Elmo.,But the moment of frolic passed, and he turned to her with shining face. “You’re the only mother I ever had—so far as I know—” his eyes danced; “anyway, you’re the only one in sight, an’ a heap too good for this guy; I guess—I’ll—I’ll mind.”,Bouncer barked at Billy’s heels. Geewhillikins chased an imaginary foe down the hill, and Jerusalem Crickets crept stealthily along the upper support of the side picket fence, trailing a venturesome sparrow.,“Yeh,” scoffed Moses, “this here turnin’ machines every Monday makes me sick. I aint got no liver left to be cheerful.”,“That boy’ll sartinly spill the tea,” prophecied Mrs. Wopp, with laughing pessimism..