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Meantime Jerusalem Crickets, escaped from Billy’s arm and eye, was sneaking about for prey; and a clinking sound from the pantry warned them that she had found it. “Don’t Job look jist like Mariar Mifsud goin’ to meetin’,” gurgled Betty. IT was a gray, cold day, unusual for May, the kind of day that accords with ill-nature. It reminded Billy of the incident of the opera when Rain and Storm, driven by his own insistence, had blown in on the stage quite out of season, and dragged off with them the remnants of winter. For the first Sunday since May Nell’s coming he took his wheel after dinner and went off alone. He was in accord with the sullen sky and air. In the morning he had answered his mother angrily; because Bouncer wished to play instead of coming through the gate when called, Billy had slammed it on his tail, knowing well that in a happier mood he would have been more careful..
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They all went off, a merry, noisy troop. And the disappearing sun was the last to say to Billy “Good-night.” “But where does our fun come in? Girls don’t build railroads,” Bess complained. Her anxiety somewhat allayed for the moment, Mrs. Mifsud roused herself for the entertainment of her guests. “Right this way, ladies and gentlemen,” Bess called from the edge of the far terrace. “A dinner fit for the gods, ambrosia and nectar; gifts from Flora and Fornax! Come up to the garden of the gods and goddesses and feast together!”.
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