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Billy turned the bulky papers over and over as if to gather some hint of their meaning from fold and stiffness. “What is it, Mr. Smith?” he asked wonderingly. St. Elmo’s face brightened with intelligence. He broke into the story to give a graphic account of how a little yellow chicken of his sister’s had got “dwownded” in the pig-trough. “Wisht I hed a chance to holler into one of them brass dinner-horns, too,” he grumbled..

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Billy knew that the man was going to the spring for water; knew where it was hidden, far in the woods, big and round, deep and clear! It was more than a hundred yards away at least. He waited and listened till the noise of snapping twigs was hushed, then crept down and peered into the hut. The place was so small there was no need of entering; he could see all the interior from the sill. “Can I hev a piece of jelly-roll, Mar?” coaxed Betty, stemming the tide of her brother’s complaints. May Nell ran and hugged Mrs. Bennett, and Edith and Billy in turn, nestling afterward in her father’s arms. “The storm’ll be worse yet, Mr. Howard, so you jist stay here till the cock crows fer risin’, an’ I’ll cook you a breakfast better’n a pore lonely bachelor kin cook fer hisself.”.