Fire Portals

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All were silent for a little. Most of them had been more than once to San Francisco’s celebrated dealer in sweets.,

Now a steamboat was on hand. At odd times for weeks, Billy, Harold, and one or two other boys, under secrecy of lock and key, had been slowly bringing to completion a wonderful structure.,

An enlarged crayon portrait in a wide gilt frame of Moses as a baby in a state of round cherubic innocent nudity, had been added recently to the mural decorations and was especially well covered with cloths.,

Bess, though not quite twelve, was a striking girl, larger than most women; with a mind as unusual as her body. Poetry, music, mythology, she fed upon these as a plant upon the sunshine. She was not satisfied with ordinary speech, but continually wove into the most commonplace events the glamour of romance and poetic words. A wise mother had stood between her and the jeers of the thoughtless, that she might have a normal girlhood; and Billy’s mother and sister helped to make it possible for her to play comfortably with those of her own age. Yet it was a surprise to the stranger to see this dark-eyed, magnificent woman-creature in short skirts romping with children.

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“What is Betty like?”,

St. Elmo clapped his tiny hands and asked for “Moah,” while Norah Bliggins, who had been almost petrified when she heard the voice of Mrs. Wopp, sat hoping no one would ask her for the golden text. She was devoutly thankful that she could get up from her cramped position. A wide lath in the upturned box which served as her seat had broken and she had sunk deeper and deeper until her chubby chin and knees were in close proximity. It required the united efforts of Maria and Betty to extricate the unfortunate child. The doll was safe, however, and with fortitude worthy of emulation still smiled although sawdust again trickled from her re-opened wound. Henry started up a lusty crowing and Moses began to whistle while Betty uncovered the windows and made other preparations for leaving the loft. Several of her pictures had been spoiled by the rain and the box reduced to a soft pulpy mass.,

“Was it dark for Joner inside the whale?” asked Pete Stolway, who noted his father viewing him through the gaping curtain and wished to appear in earnest conversation with his instructor.,

Every back bent a little lower. Every face flushed a little rosier under its coat of grime. Praise from Billy was all they asked.