“Do you need it right away?” Billy stood his wheel against the steps and flung his books on the porch table.,
Then Moses commenced. He ran up and down a chromatic scale of puffs and groans and sniffles, ending with a cadence that sounded like, “Gosh dern!”,
“Have you been to the show this week, Miss Gordon?” He turned from the fire and stood with his back to the cheerful blaze.,
“Naw Nosey,” he retorted, “there ain’t no bun to break in two, the dorg is outside the bun already.”
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“Oh, poor li’l Nancy wants in!” She raised the window and gently lifted the cat into the room. Running to her place at the table, she poured half of her cup of milk into a saucer and set it in a sunny spot on the floor.,
Every back bent a little lower. Every face flushed a little rosier under its coat of grime. Praise from Billy was all they asked.,
To stay the cloud that began to gather over Moses’ brow, Howard suggested going to see a vaudeville show.,
Miss Gordon complied, then followed the old favorite with a two-step played in as sprightly a manner as the organ would allow.
“But there aren’t any deer,” the little girl objected. “What will you do for
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“Larst Tuesday,” she continued, “two p’licemen went ridin’ along the trail jist as we were comin’ home from school, an’ they had the beautifulest horses. Moses can ride any horse, no matter how ornery.” Betty’s eyes shone with pride.
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Rational people laughed at these stories, declared them the fancies of brains fuddled by too long a stay at the saloons in town. But Billy was not so easily satisfied. He wished to see for himself those shadowy forms; to prove to the small, scared children that, contrary to general belief, the brothers sometimes had guests. And he had a queer feeling that some way the house would have a place in his life. He admired its gloomy grandeur; planned the additions he would make if it were his own, and the gardens, the hedges of roses, and banks of fragrant smilax, that should grow there.
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“Fer the love o’ Mike, kid, how did you git here?” said Moses, rousing the small sleeper. “Gosh, but yer face needs warshin’.”
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>“You and Edith are fairies,” he said when his mother came again to the room, “to rustle such pretty togs for the new sister in a night.” His mother was piling his plate again with griddle cakes.
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