“Dear Billy,” it read; “Shifty seen the fight. He says it was something fierce. He says you looked like a mad bull. He was hiding behind the fence. He says he bet on me; but he was glad he didn’t bet with nobody, because you whipped. Shifty’s doing some of my written work—I’m telling him how, of course. And I’m studying right smart. Say, Bill, I don’t lay no grudge. My arm’s getting on fine.,
Billy turned the bulky papers over and over as if to gather some hint of their meaning from fold and stiffness. “What is it, Mr. Smith?” he asked wonderingly.,
Presently he raised his head and was confronted by Job the turkey wearing a tiny bright pink hat and a green ribbon round his neck. An antimacassar bearing wide magenta and red crocheted stripes covered his back causing him to strut with peacock pride.,
THE silence was broken a little later by merry voices on the stairway. For several nights the girls had been gathering in May Nell’s room. Billy knew “things were doing” there by the sounds; the tap, tap of the tack hammer, added to much chatter and rustling. Now May Nell caught him by the hand and pulled him across the hall. A strange pungent fragrance like burning spice, yet not familiar, met them at the door. And inside, the dark hangings full of lurking shadows gave the room a foreign air.
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“I hate to have you stay without Jean,” Billy objected.,
“No, no, the Fo’castle! I—Here they come!” Billy set down some cups with dangerous haste and ran out.,
“Rather like a dear little girl, that so will find her mother,” Mrs. Bennett reassured.,
“Here Mosey,” said Betty, “is a tin crown. You can fasten it on with this wire. See?”
“Ain’t she her own aunt?” hazarded Mr. Wopp, abstractedly thrusting his hammer into his boot top and scratching his bald head with a pair of pincers.
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And Billy seeing sweet potatoes sticking out of hot ashes, and other luxuries in evidence, concluded that some business was “doin’ among the girls,” where he wouldn’t be welcome. He went back to the “Front,” where some of the contractors were having a violent altercation over the meaning of certain specifications. The Boss soon arbitrated successfully, and things moved “lively” for a short time, when the[55] banging of a dishpan announced dinner at “the hotel.”
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It’s a Quan-Yuan
THE day was fine. Billy, not long released from his green shade, wondered if the world was ever so lovely before; the flowers so sweet, the birds so joyous. Could it be only a few short weeks since that gray Sunday? Billy’s confinement had quickened him, introduced him to himself; now he looked on life with wider eyes, with a more understanding heart.
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“It’s that Jake. He’s sich an ornery animule,” explained the boy, thus shamelessly vilifying a patient and much enduring character.
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Halin-Chen Response,
>“I reckon Joner hadn’t any too much light,” opined Mrs. Wopp.
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