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Billy went to the door and looked after them. No one was in sight. Harold, the twins, and May Nell, too, were gone. What could it mean? He looked back at the clock. Nearly ten. Usually the Gang gathered earlier than this, hung around and hurried him with his work, many putting in lusty strokes, that Billy, the favorite, might the sooner be released. But now even Jean, his stanch second in all the fun going, was late. He had expected to be late himself; he always was. But he, who planned most of the sport in spite of doing more work than any of them, had this day expected his schemes to be well launched before he could join in them. “But I don’t wish May Nell away, mother, do you?” “Please, Mith Wopp, the latht windthorm upthet our hen-houth.”.

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Howard sat back in his chair and thought of the possibilities of seeing Nell. He reflected that they were as good as engaged. Mrs. Wopp had given her diagnosis of the case enigmatically, perhaps, but with a degree of accuracy denoting keen observation on the evening of his last visit at the Wopp household. For fully a fraction of a minute Nell had let him hold her hand, and then her face all dimpling had turned to say good-night. He was rehearsing what he should say next time she dimpled so irresistibly and he breathed anathemas on his asinine conduct in being so shy and tardy. He was brought to the immediate present by Moses who was regarding an ice-cream soda with suspicion. “Oh, Betty,” he begged, “Pease dive me some.” “But I don’t wish May Nell away, mother, do you?” “Moses, put the hosses in the stable an’ fuller me. We’ll soon find him, Mis’ Mifsud,” said Mr. Wopp, his kindliness asserting itself in this crisis. “Come on, Clarence, an’ Mis’ Mifsud you send the other men along ’s soon ’s they git here. Jist you rest easy, we’ll soon be back with yer boy.”.