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“Ef it hadn’t been fer Mosey, St. Elmo might of been lorst yet,” remarked Betty, gazing reflectively into the fire. “Ef he was goin’ walkin’ on till he found Joner, he’d of been gone a long while.” “There’s a little secret about work; with grown-ups it is often their play; and they like it.” Supper over and dishes hurried out of sight, the floor was once more cleared and the real business of the evening was resumed..

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“Here Mosey,” said Betty, “is a tin crown. You can fasten it on with this wire. See?” Next followed a buckboard gaily painted red. Mrs. Mifsud and her daughter Maria aged fourteen who had taken a “quarter” of music lessons and was now the organist of the church, were occupants. Between them was wedged the pet of the family St. Elmo Mifsud a child of four. St. Elmo wore long chestnut curls and an angelic expression. Clarence Egerton Crump, Mrs. Mifsud’s nephew who was visiting his aunt and cousins, accompanied the family on his wheel. “Does he?” May Nell stared innocently into the darkening eyes. “I should think that would make you awfully agitated.” “When I see Moses was still wearin’ his best Sunday coat an’ pants an’ tearin’ along on that cayuse like John Gilping, I come all out in goose-flesh, Ebenezer, till you’d think the merkery had fell clean down to zero.”.