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As the stove door opened for the intrepid Moses, out flew Tillie the white bantam hen now as black as a crow with soot. She fluttered into the face of Moses who was kneeling before the stove. Moses’ intuition regarding St. Elmo’s retreat proved to be correct, and it was a sadly dejected countenance on which he gazed when he looked into the cave. Tears, dirt, and the juice of Saskatoon berries mingled on the fair sleeping face of the child, until he seemed to be the very Cree Indian he had so often personated in his play. His long curls were tangled and matted with small twigs. His diminutive brown velvet coat displayed a large rent in the elbow through which oozed a pathetic-looking suppuration of pink and white checked shirt. “Fer the love of mike, what’s that noise?” Moses’ eyes seemed to almost dart from his head. The others looked up as a distinct rustling was heard in the parlor. Moses was on his feet first. The noise came from the stove..
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Conrad
“This is excitin’ fun,” moaned Moses, as he picked his way carefully with a tin elbow that threatened every moment to capsize with its flaky mass of black dust, “about as excitin’ as playin’ with the ashes in the mornin’.” “I’ll not make a noise, and I’ll—I’ll try not to cry; but I’m afraid I’ll ha-have t-to,” she faltered, struggling to hide her eyes that grew moist in spite of herself. Hot water, lotions, a mother’s tender hands, best of all, a mother’s comprehending heart,—it is wonderful what cures these can make. In an hour Billy was comparatively at ease. His sore body still ached, and his eyes “felt like red fire on the Fourth,” he said; but the world seemed less dark, and he was glad his mother had not taken him at his word and left him to bear his trouble alone. “I’ll mow in the morning. Let me stay and visit Pretty—Harold, I mean—till sundown; can’t I, mamma?” He patted her cheek with a vigor that made her wink. “You know you can’t refuse your darling boy,” he wheedled..
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