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“Orl right, you rascalashus coaxer, an’ go make some tea an’ fetch some crackers an’ cheese an’ we’ll orl hev a bite.”,

“Oh, I was havin’ lots of fun watchin’ the dancin’,” returned Betty rising with childish alacrity. The wistful look that belied her words disappeared like magic.,

“You must do it,” he spelled. His stiffened fingers must have carried authority, for she nodded; and he saw her get a chair and stand with it, ready to do his bidding.,

The door opened and Betty, who had stayed in school to clean the blackboard for “teacher,” appeared. She came in bringing with her the very essence of outdoor freshness and buoyancy.

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Billy heard her, though. “Come on, sister, mamma, too, and see the fun,” he called, not unwillingly, for he was a bit proud of their work now that it was out in the light of day. He had reason; it was really an imposing craft for boys to build from scraps.,

THE day was fine. Billy, not long released from his green shade, wondered if the world was ever so lovely before; the flowers so sweet, the birds so joyous. Could it be only a few short weeks since that gray Sunday? Billy’s confinement had quickened him, introduced him to himself; now he looked on life with wider eyes, with a more understanding heart.,

“No, no! Don’t, mother! I’ll run away! I’ll—” He groaned and left his sentence unfinished.,

In the house, meanwhile, affairs were proceeding quite as happily as those out of doors. The hostess fluctuated between the parlor and kitchen. She was preparing a repast not only for the workers present, but also for the men-folk who would presently arrive to take them to their respective homes. Excused from quilting, she nevertheless managed to spend considerable time with her guests. Mrs. Mifsud was a lady who aspired to literary attainments. She had read “Beulah,” “Vashti,” “Lucile,” “St. Elmo” and many other books of like calibre. She felt that her talents were practically wasted, living in what she termed a desert, yet she strove, when occasion offered, by elegance of deportment and conversation to enhance her gifts. She often spoke tenderly of the late Mr. Mifsud who, in spite of the fact that his face had been adorned with bristling side-whiskers of an undeniable red, had shown in other ways some signs of intelligence and feeling. He had been carried off by the shingles. According to Mrs. Mifsud’s account, her deeply-lamented spouse had considered the tall attenuated form of his wife “willowy,” her long thin black hair “a crown of glory,” her worn narrow countenance with its sharp nose and coal-black eyes, “seraphic.”