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“It’s only your notion, Billy, that mother’s cream is best; but I’ve been very happy making it for you.” She began at once to serve it. “I couldn’t understand it then. Now I do. My own sister is that bravest of lovers.” His words rang with pride as well as love. She was happy and the time passed unnoticed till she had finished, and put the food back in the pail, when a queer, dizzy feeling came upon her and she sank down on one of the rugs..
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The effulgence of Mrs. Wopp’s smile was somewhat obscured by “I told you so’s,” but the aroma of the steaming teapot soon restored its radiance. 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. “Sing something, Mar.” Betty’s plaintive voice broke the silence. Awakened to the fact of her son’s existence and perhaps as an antidote to her unusual display of sentiment, Mrs. Wopp spoke rather sharply. “Moses, time you an’ Betty was in bed. You won’t want to git up in the mornin’ an’ milk the cows.” Later left alone in the lower part of the house she stood arms akimbo in the middle of the kitchen gazing at the door through which Nell Gordon had just departed. Shaking her head she said mysteriously, “I kalkerlate as how things is a-settin’ in that way.”.
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