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“Jiminy whiz! This is my very last week of boy; next week I’ll have to be a man,” he said gloomily. Oh, where have you been, charming Billy?” As Betty Wopp and Maria Mifsud, each holding a hand of St. Elmo, left the church, they were highly entertained by that small boy’s account of a “man named Jonah who had swallowed a dwate big fish called a whale.”.

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“Mary an’ Martha hev jist gone along to ring them shinin’ bells.” Betty, orphaned at the age of six, had been adopted by the kind-hearted Mrs. Wopp. The child found her chief joy in life, outside of Jethro, Nancy and Job, in a flower-bed. A small plot of ground had been allotted her for her own use, and there every spring for the last four years her precious flowers had bloomed and had filled her eyes with brightness and her soul with gladness. Morning-glories and nasturtiums were the surest to bloom. They climbed the strings so gracefully and turned the old weather-beaten fence where they grew into a tapestry of gorgeous dyes. “I’ll make a note of that, Lize.” “My conscience! You can’t eat all—” May Nell stopped, conscious of an unkindness. But the boy only laughed; he was used to comments on his appetite..