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“That man Zalhambone’s playin’ rasped all up an’ down my spine,” she criticized. Then harking back to thrills she really had felt despite her prejudice, she admitted grudgingly, “My, but his han’s did fly over them keys permiscuous-like.” “Don’t nobody start ‘Greenland Icy Mountings’ round here,” objected Moses. “I got orl the cool drarfts I need comin’ through this here hole in my shirt.” From the lower slopes of the Cedar Hills issued many wide wooded ravines. Of these none were prettier than Spring Coulee which even in winter retained its attractiveness, having a goodly sprinkling of evergreen trees among the poplars and cottonwoods lining its sides. A grassy level formed the bottom of the coulee. Through the centre of this a little crystal-clear stream, rising in the hills behind and swelled by an occasional spring which gushed from the sides of the ravine, danced over its pebbly bed to join Berry Creek a mile away..

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“Moses, you git to the barn an’ hunt the aigs, an’ min’ you look in the haystack; that ole yaller hen has been wantin’ ter set in the nigh corner of it.” St. Elmo willingly consented. His mind was still running on the wonderful story Betty had told him. Perhaps the fairies would show themselves now Betty had gone. A few moments before, Moses had thrown down his hoe and departed to the barn, so the little boy was quite alone. He stood eagerly watching the sunflower patch where the fairies had appeared on at least one occasion. “Betty dimples in an’ out, like Mar’s dough,” he remarked, joyously, “she’s shore gittin’ better.” Innocuous as this remark might seem, it caused St. Elmo’s lip to quiver and two large tears started on their grimy course down his cheeks..