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“What song would you like, Betty?” “Come on Betty, you haven’t had a dance this evening. It isn’t fair for the grownups to have all the fun,” invited Howard Eliot. “Sure! Take care of the truck, will you?” He dropped his burdens to Jean’s willing hands, and darted forward..
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“Oh Mosey,” cried Betty at the breakfast table, being first on the scene to arrange her flowers, “we’ll hev a spellin’ match to-day I bet.” Relieved, yet with his nerves quivering Billy plunged into the deep woods of the higher altitudes. The air was unusually hot and stifling, and his eyes watered. “Fire in the woods somewhere,” he murmured, recognizing the odor of smoke. “Oh, he is a wonderful piannerist,” explained Betty. “He played, Oh, jist lovely, jist like birds singin’ an’ rivers runnin’ an’ the sun shinin’. But arfter he played he looked so fierce I was skeered of him. Miss Gordon didn’t like him either, arfter she got knowin’ him better.” Mrs. Mifsud who had listened to this recital with polite interest, now excused herself on the plea of urgent duties in the kitchen..
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