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“Oh, chuck the business,” Jean said impatiently. “Can’t it wait till noon? I must go home then.”,

“Come, come! We can’t be cremated while we wait. Mush!”,

The frenzied cries of the child were distinctly audible in the kitchen where sat Mrs. Mifsud and Mrs. Wopp, the latter busily engaged in mending a pile of socks. Both ladies sprang to their feet and hurried through the open door towards the garden, Mrs. Wopp still wearing a half-darned sock on her left hand and scattering others as she ran. They were followed by Betty, who had been filling her watering-can from the rain-barrel and had also heard the cries of the frightened child.,

“Gosh! Wisht Betty was here right this minute. Mebbe I’m dyin’. Hope nobody starts twangin’ a harp. My nose is worser’n ever!”

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May Nell! Where was she? He had forgotten her! It must be three—four— Oh, how late was it? Was she safe? Or had she fainted from fright; and was she lying there now, helpless? He looked across the plashing river to the green, blossoming isle, grateful for water and grass and green shrub, and the sheltering Lodge that would keep her safe from the fire. Yet the terror of being there alone, of seeing that awful sheet of flame sweep down the mountain to her very feet,—perhaps a fainting spell,—that surely must have followed,—with no one there to revive her, it might be—fatal!,

The inexorable portrait on the wall seemed to gaze down on the recalcitrant youth with disapproval.,

The pianist took a long look at Nell who had been visibly affected by his playing. Misgivings that date back to Eden were leaping into life in his breast. He had been in love more times than he could count, but here was the girl after all. He began a Scherzo of his own composition. Youth gathering flowers at the open mouth of a volcano. The melody was born to live forever. He was a genius. Now Nell knew it and her soul worshipped genius. Howard Eliot was far from her thoughts as she listened to the enchanting chain of melodies that poured forth.,

Betty, orphaned at the age of six, had been adopted by the kind-hearted Mrs. Wopp. The child found her chief joy in life, outside of Jethro, Nancy and Job, in a flower-bed. A small plot of ground had been allotted her for her own use, and there every spring for the last four years her precious flowers had bloomed and had filled her eyes with brightness and her soul with gladness. Morning-glories and nasturtiums were the surest to bloom. They climbed the strings so gracefully and turned the old weather-beaten fence where they grew into a tapestry of gorgeous dyes.