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THE next morning Billy had a “temperature.” His mother decided against school for that day. At first he was glad. He didn’t care if he had forty temperatures. He thought almost anything in the way of fever was cooler than he would feel if the boys—and the girls—should see his face. Not that this was the first time he had been scratched in a fight; before he had not cared who knew. To-day it was different,—there were things about this fight he wished he could forget, even though he knew Jimmy was not likely to die.,

Mrs. Mifsud who had listened to this recital with polite interest, now excused herself on the plea of urgent duties in the kitchen.,

“This is a lyre, very old,” said Mr. Crump, handling an ancient instrument tenderly. Moses looked up suddenly, he hoped nothing he had said called forth the remark.,

“S’Gordon won’t care,” grunted Moses. “She never had to wear Par’s old pants, an’ she won’t un’erstan’ how a feller feels.”

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“This aint got poultry in it nor moosic nor nothin’,” complained one small youth. Moses made several further attempts to comply with the modest request of his teacher and at last each child held in grubby hands a book of quaint verses glorified by the tonic sol fah.,

“Oh, Billy, how could you, when mother has so much to do?” It was his sister, Edith, who spoke, her sweet face clouded with rare disapproval. Yet she went on with the music lesson she was giving.,

“Jist look at that black man’s chest swellin’ in an’ out like an accorjun,” remarked Mrs. Wopp highly entertained with the sight. Moses leaned over till he was in danger of capsizing. His eager look trailed off into a point of vacuity when the performers left the stage. Bewilderment had left his eyes incapable of properly focussing. Suddenly he caught sight of Betty and he could hardly repress an exclamation of joy as he pointed her out to his mother.,

“Gosh! Wisht Betty was here right this minute. Mebbe I’m dyin’. Hope nobody starts twangin’ a harp. My nose is worser’n ever!”