On the morning after Nell Gordon’s arrival, she admired the lovely array of fairy-like trumpets that seemed to smile a welcome from the glass bowl in the centre of the table. A tiny spider had been hidden in the heart of one of the blooms, and was weaving a net of filmy loveliness from flower to flower.,
They all went off, a merry, noisy troop. And the disappearing sun was the last to say to Billy “Good-night.”,
“My father didn’t let my mother work when he was alive; but he—he died.” Billy bent lower over his weeding, and both were quiet.
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“Please, Mith Wopp, the latht windthorm upthet our hen-houth.”,
Now in the silence and fragrance his tightened springs began to relax. Presently he found himself in a dream of possibilities of the island,—Ellen’s Isle, he always called it; of what might be done with the smooth places in the river, the hills, Sunol Creek not far away, boiling and tumbling in boisterous beauty; of hidden nooks, piled boulders, and tiny meadows, vine-enclosed and flower-fragrant.,
He was soon at the “lodge of ample size” made the week before, not of “strong logs” but of old fence-rails and willow twigs. He wondered if the girls would be able to imagine it a “lodge,” or if May Nell and Jean, who were to come a little later, could fix it according to the poem.,
“Are your going to church?” she asked, disappointment drawing her lips to a tremulous curve.
The basket piled high with snowy linen and cotton seemed almost to overflow the brim. Betty pressed the clothes down with her brown hands, while the complaining boy enlarged on the sordid details of that trying wash-day and on the manner in which his mother had teased him. The child’s sense of humor outbalanced even her sympathy and a peal of laughter rang out. Her laugh was a long delicious trill, as though a bird had dropped from the clouds singing still with the sunrise tangled in its notes. Moses paused long enough for a procession of commas and semicolons to pass by. Then seeing his disappointment in her apparent lack of sympathy, Betty hastened to console him.
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The sun rose over the hills and his presence could be ignored no longer. As the Wopp family were driving silently home in the chilly morning, Moses, growing reminiscent, remarked with a yawn:
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Mrs. Wopp rose from her chair and seating herself on the sofa beside her husband took his thin hand in her substantial one, squeezing it openly.
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>“Git in there, an’ no nonsense,” ordered Moses, who was chafing at the delay.
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