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Late that night when Billy’s mother followed him to the Fo’castle, he asked, “Are you pleased with it, little mother?” “It’s my doin’s, Mar,” said Betty, “I made it orl up outer my head.” Wait till the clouds roll by,.
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“I am given to understand by the best fashion-plates, Mrs. Wopp, that the garment you term an ‘underwaist’ is now designated a casserole.” “Gosh! Wisht Betty was here right this minute. Mebbe I’m dyin’. Hope nobody starts twangin’ a harp. My nose is worser’n ever!” “No, no! Don’t, mother! I’ll run away! I’ll—” He groaned and left his sentence unfinished. Billy felt his head lift a little higher at his mother’s words; felt a new standard of honor and independence leap into being. The house was too small for him. He ran out into the summer evening, down the hill to the big rock that overhangs Runa Creek. The stars were beginning to shine, and he could hear the tinkle of the water below. Bouncer rubbed against him, and Billy hugged him to the peril of the old dog’s breath..
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