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“Is theh faywies wound heah, Betty? Can they see us?” inquired the little boy in awe-struck tones. “My conscience! How lovely and stylish you look!” The child, accustomed to elegant dress, praised with discriminating eyes. Several ladies of the district were already busy “scttin’ up” the quilt when Mrs. Wopp and her satellites entered the Mifsud parlor..
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At this mendacious statement Mrs. Wopp turned on her offspring a withering glance. Her disappointment over Moses’ parsimony led her now to see the urgent necessity of ideas, vital ideas, in fact, ideas that could cause silver to flow to her empty coffers, or in other words her missionary box. The child seeing the twinkle in the older eyes, laughed aloud; and, wrapped in a voluminous apron, began the first task that had ever left its stain on her pretty fingers. “Swing with Captain Jinks, swing with the horse that ate the beans, swing with the girl with the great big feet.”.
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