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“Oh Miss Gordon,” cried Betty suddenly roused to fresh interest, “you must see my pet turkey after supper. He has only one eye an’ he walks corner ways an’ his name is Job an’ I jist love him.” Betty’s breath was all used up and she sat back exhausted. The best of all was a letter from Jimmy, scrawled with his left hand. “Oh, Lord, she’s orl I got,” he wailed. He hinted that there would be no more light in him, than in Job’s blind eye, should Betty be lost to him..

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“Not a bit!” His words were strangely impatient. “I’ve got to find her!” He started past them. In his anticipation of the Sunday afternoon treat in store for him, Moses dreamed all that night of little dark-skinned men running round after him with bowls of rice and jabbing him with chop-sticks. The solid rock of the mountain had been cut away from the rear of the house to form a natural, paved court. At the top was a small chicken coop, its wall flush with the wall of rock; and near it grew an oak sapling not larger than Billy’s arm. The resourceful Betty was not to be undone by this embarrassing accident. She used the silk shawl to groom the ostrich and to mop the disfiguring stains from Moses’ face. The helmet was discarded and the aigret of red hair rose instantly undaunted, waving a lively accompaniment to the boy’s continued exertions to follow the pace set by Betty’s imagination..