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The hours passed in an uproar of fun. The table was dismantled, toys, tools, and dishes put away, and the feast had sped into the past. Billy had intended naming it The Jean, but Charley had stood for Queen Bess, Harold didn’t like either name, and George and Jimmy had objected to “girl kid names, anyway.” They had, however, unanimously compromised on The Edith, for Billy’s sister was adored privately by all of his older friends, adored openly and “tagged” by the little ones. Edith, since May Nell’s coming, suggested her name. The little girl agreed if it could be Ellen; Billy added “Fair” with her permission; and this name he painted over each paddle wheel with no opposition from the others. “But if your steamer works you don’t want its secrets peddled round; and girls always blab.”.

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She stooped and kissed him. It seemed to him that his voice made no sound; that May Nell never ran so slowly; that the travellers would surely not hear him, not stop. How could they hear in all the noise? He watched the three drive away, the brother holding the reins in his left hand; the other he did not attempt to lift; and Billy’s heart thumped faster as fear grew to a certainty. He brushed himself weakly, turning his back as a surrey-load of people passed. Edith worked very hard. She called her operetta “The Triumph of Flora.” The words were her own, written hurriedly and set to familiar though classic airs. Yet many of the daintiest, most tripping melodies she wrote herself. The sorrows of humanity had winged her brain and dipped her pen in harmonies, that she might assuage them..