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A gleeful yell greeted his paraphrase. While they ate it all came out, how they had planned and executed. Harold had peas and strawberries hidden in his mysterious basket, freshly gathered by his own hands that morning. George and Jimmy had furnished and dressed the chickens, and the girls had roasted them—with a little supervision from Mrs. Bennett—in the Yukon camping stove that belonged to Harry’s mother. Bess had given the dishes, blue and white enamel, strong as well as good to the eye, and ready for many another frolic. And so the story went on. All the wholesome things of the country that children like had come from one and another. And each had been as happy in giving as Billy could possibly be in receiving. “That’s you, papa,” Clarence piped, as an anxious post warning..
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“Afore I begin weedin’,” she announced, “I b’lieve I’ll make two bouquets, one orl yaller an’ one orl white, an’ some sparrer-grass in both.” “And I’m always going to be your little girl, too,” the child pleaded; “so Billy must be my papa’s little boy.” When the program was over Moses noticed enviously that Betty was so close to the orchestra that her ear was almost in the trombone. “Can’t I see the faywies some time, Betty?” asked St. Elmo..
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