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To-day his mother’s words had left a pang. He would soon be a man and have to “think for himself.” Yes, and work, too. “Gee whiz! It’ll be tough not to play any more,” he exclaimed under his breath as he bowled along the tree-lined road that led to the Prettyman farm.,

Nothing loth to keep the distance between himself and Nell at a minimum, Howard Eliot entered with zest into the boy’s plans.,

“Yer a limb o’ Satan orl right. The shawl was needin’ dyein’ anyway. I’ll jist make it green. Yer Par used to say I looked right harnsome in green, so I’ll s’prise him with a new shawl over my shoulders.” She turned to the dog. The strenuous exertions of the afternoon had noticeably reduced his girth.,

By this time Moses’ plate was piled high with a steaming and odoriferous portion of Fuji Yama and he was content to postpone all discussions of Geography and fowls to an indefinite future. In a very few minutes, the entire mound had disappeared and Moses was polishing his plate with a piece of bread.

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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.,

Through the open door could be heard the strains of “Pull for the shore” sung with heart and soul by the intermediate class, and to that lively air Moses made for the exit as expeditiously as his sodden garments would allow.,

Betty, orphaned at the age of six, had been adopted by the kind-hearted Mrs. Wopp. The child found her chief joy in life, outside of Jethro, Nancy and Job, in a flower-bed. A small plot of ground had been allotted her for her own use, and there every spring for the last four years her precious flowers had bloomed and had filled her eyes with brightness and her soul with gladness. Morning-glories and nasturtiums were the surest to bloom. They climbed the strings so gracefully and turned the old weather-beaten fence where they grew into a tapestry of gorgeous dyes.,

“Here’s to our mothers,