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CHAPTER XVII.—A SAMPLE OF EBENEZER WOPP’S IRE. They were at the dripping roadside tank and back in a trice. Gently where a moment before he had been ferocious with anger, Billy wiped his play-mate’s face, or rather, changed the mud from one spot to another, got him to his feet again, and finally into the buggy with the little girls by his side. He lifted the board, trying its weight. Could he ever get it safely placed? Higher he lifted it, and began to let it drop; but he saw that if the other end missed the window sill, it would pull him down to the court below. Frantic, he stared about for help, for inspiration. He dared not wait till the passers came in hearing; the sound of his voice calling might too soon rouse men inside, make them shoot perhaps. As it was he expected every minute to see a swarthy face appear, a hand with a knife or pistol. It was not for himself he feared, but for May Nell, the little girl who for some strange reason was worth something to these desperadoes, and whose life would be on his soul if he did not save her..
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Conrad
She put back his tumbled hair, looked long into his eyes, realizing with a shock that she was looking up. Her little boy was gone. Mrs. Wopp’s face assumed a forgiving air as she accepted this defence. Then began that portion of the story that leads up to the tragic culmination. “Oh ’bout the fairies an’ stars an’ lovely things that grownups know nothin’ about.” “I sorter hoped Moses’d take arter Uncle Josh, too,” she said, regretfully..
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