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Mrs. Wopp drew the green curtains together and turned to the smallest girl in the class. Lastly came Moses’ turn to pay the admission fee, and with a shame-faced expression he dropped several silver coins into the box held in Betty’s hand. Her face was a study in feminine triumph as Moses mumbled, “I aint got no carrots, so here’s my pay to git in ter yer little ole show.” “Poor little chaps! They’ve been talking circus for a month.”.

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“Doubtless it is incorporated in the language of some foreign people,” conceded Mrs. Mifsud, languidly. The basket piled high with snowy linen and cotton seemed almost to overflow the brim. Betty pressed the clothes down with her brown hands, while the complaining boy enlarged on the sordid details of that trying wash-day and on the manner in which his mother had teased him. The child’s sense of humor outbalanced even her sympathy and a peal of laughter rang out. Her laugh was a long delicious trill, as though a bird had dropped from the clouds singing still with the sunrise tangled in its notes. Moses paused long enough for a procession of commas and semicolons to pass by. Then seeing his disappointment in her apparent lack of sympathy, Betty hastened to console him. The chinking began in earnest. Moses stood, turning till each freckle on his ruddy face shone with honest sweat. Mr. Zalhambra’s gaze fell full on the girl and her color heightened under his ardent look..