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The disgusted artist got up and with a huge hand wiped his handkerchief across his perspiring brow. He was short and very thick set, with prominent forehead, bulging black eyes, coarse nose, thick red lips. Rain dropped her gray mantle behind a tree, and reappeared with her chalice of diamond-dust dew, to touch the fairy chorus to shimmering beauty. The gnomes, their queer masks and hunched shoulders showing grotesquely under their gray garb, joined the fairies’ dance. Wind came floating in as Summer Breeze. Storm was transformed to the Slave of the Sower; while Black Frost was perched high up at the rear, grinning from the top of the mountain. Out of the tail of her eye Betty noted this little touch of sentiment and was much impressed..

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At the rink the enthusiastic country boy enjoyed the vast expanse of ice with no snags to interrupt his skating. A little girl wearing a bright red cap was enraptured to find her hand caught in Moses’ strong grasp and to feel herself, still a learner, whirled giddily over the ice feeling as safe as on a carpeted floor. “I carn’t think what’s happened to my carrots this year,” said Mrs. Wopp, vexedly, after a time. “Hardly any hev come up, an’ them as did come, aint growed much. We’ll shorely not hev many carrot puddin’s nor pies this winter, nor mulligans neither.” The concluding part of this speech was of vital interest to Moses, who delighted in all the delicacies mentioned. He sat by the table in his dressing-room with angry storm-swept countenance. He had been capturing loud plaudits with his rag-time, until intoxicated with success, he swept into a tornado of music by Moskowski. The applause died away; two ladies in the front row began chatting. The enraged artist jumped from the piano-stool, and shouting “Pigs!” raced from the platform. CHAPTER XVI THE BRIDGE TO SAFETY.