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“Never mind Mosey, yer heart don’t need fixin’ anyhow,” comforted Betty. Betty, feeling that further explanations were worse than useless, submitted to be led to the sink where her energetic foster-mother subjected her to so many soapy treatments that in a few minutes time she emerged very red in the face but purified. “Oh, don’t wait for me,” Billy exclaimed, opening his eyes suddenly; “you won’t catch ’em! The fire’ll get there first! Hurry! Leave me alone, I tell you!”.

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The loft in the barn had been swept and garnished by Mr. Wopp for Betty’s moving picture show, and thither, after the preliminary how-d’you-do’s were over, she led her eager audience. Her head was held at the exact angle for ascending the ladder to perform the imposing duties of moving picture operator, and her foot was on the first rung when she suddenly thought of the collection box for the carrots the children were carrying. One brilliant Sunday Mr. Wells paced up and down in the sunshine before his little church. An ardent lover of nature he was admiring the beautiful shades of the foliage on either hand and the gorgeous masses of golden-rod that lifted feathery heads to the sun. Presently seeing two or three vehicles approaching he retired into the church. “Aint that wonderful Miss Gordon? An’ Betty never had a lesson in her life. She jist naterly takes to music,” said Mrs. Wopp complacently. “Better quit tarlkin’, Moses, an’ let the picter show go on so’s we kin hev supper, everythin’s laid an’ ready.”.