WELL, what do you want to play?” Billy asked, after the had a little .  
“Let’s go to the park and play football,” Jimmy responded quickly.
 
“But the girls and small fry can’t come in on that. Besides, that little city kid’ll be lonesome if I leave her.”
 
“Well I’m not going to stay an’ play kid games,” Jimmy retorted loftily, and turned away.
 
“Me neither,” George .
 
“All right,” Billy with a nonchalant ; “I thought Sour’n Shifty’d make good surveyors, Pretty; but I guess you can do that an’ your own job too, can’t you?” Billy turned to Harold, while George watched to see what Jimmy did.
 
“Surveyors? What’s your scheme?” Jimmy was quickly interested.
 
“Why, I’d planned a big stock concern, like business men. We’ll build a railroad, telegraph line—that comes first, though; we’ll have gold and mines, and a . And next we’ll launch the steamer we’ve been making.”
 
“If she steams,” Harold put in .
 
“That big sand pile the kids made last week for a fort can be the Sierras, and we’ll tunnel, and have a loop, and—”
 
“But where does our fun come in? Girls don’t build railroads,” Bess complained.
 
“No; but you can ask , and buy stocks, and keep hotel in the , an’ board us men. Make more money ’n we do. They always do, you know; not the fellers that works, but the smart ones that work them. I’m hungry enough to eat May Nell right now!” He snapped his teeth together with a grin as the little girl came near; and she laughed back at him more than her mother would have believed possible could she have known; for this out-of-door frolic was a to the child, white from life within brick walls.
 
They were a happy lot. Each held some high-sounding position, the name coined in Billy’s busy brain. His box of abused tools came ; the much mended wheelbarrow, picks, wobbly from use as well as abuse, things that only an imagination as large as Billy’s could have named tools,—something for each one there.
 
Along the of soft sand left by waters Billy let his first contract to Harold, who immediately marshalled the “kindergarten” with their broken fire shovels, kitchen spoons, what not, and set them to digging briskly. “Straight to the line, mind you,” he sang out from time to time, as he set his pins along the line the “engineers had run.” Max was of telegraph construction; and Charley Strong, “the Strong Man,” and Jackson contracted for the tunnel. They were to start from each side, meet exactly in the middle in sixty days,—a minute stood for a day,—or pay five million dollars fine. And over all Billy kept a eye, cast the of his eager spirit.
 
What matter if the telegraph poles that were to be just twelve feet—that is, twelve inches—fell short or long sometimes.
 
“Their knifes too dull, and she must quick be done,” Max apologized to Billy on his trips.
 
“We’ll play there’s a strike in the saw-mills, Dutchy, and this is scab labor,” Billy excused . And for a fact the white cotton string carried the messages quite safely from the “Front,” where Jimmy and George laid out the “line” over wonderful grades, across impossible ; and “wired” back for further orders. Potter was the operator at the “Front,” and Vilette,—“Women do operate, you know,” she said,—Vilette was the proud of “the key” at Headquarters, where Clarence Hammond around as Messenger; and because he was the “son of the Boss,” his Cousin Harry unmercifully.
 
“Geegustibus! You kids are doin’ a fine job,” Billy encouraged, as he walked by the line of little bending, sweating backs. “There never was a railroad built on the square like this. on time; men a-workin’ that’s got brains an’ ain’t afraid to use ’em. Jiminy crickets, it’s fine!”
 
Every back a little lower. Every face flushed a little under its coat of grime. Praise from Billy was all they asked.
 
“Well, I must get at my job, too. That’s thinking up things. You fellers do your work an’ get your money; but I got to that money or .”
“O Billy, it hurts the ears of my mind to hear you say those vulgar words.” May Nell, playing “man” for the first time in her life, looked up from the “rod of grade” that she was piling with a broken . The color from sun and exercise added much to her beauty. She was neither blowsy nor smudged like the other children, and her lawn frock was as spotless as in the morning.
 
Billy looked at her thoughtfully, wondering why her fearless criticism did not him; lifted his hat and mussed again his tousled hair. “All right, Fair Ellen, I’ll try to obey the—”
 
“Lady of the Lake?” she finished quickly in a question. “Do you know that, too? I love it.”
 
“‘One sheet of living gold,
Loch Katrine lay beneath him rolled,’”
she quoted . “I know a lot more of it. Do you?”
 
A scream from “the shack” stopped further . Billy ran up the hill to learn the trouble. Only Evelyn was there in the little house built, half of boards, half of woven lattice-wise, against a huge smooth rock. Beside this rock also a cobble chimney; and the fireplace, roughly plastered, served its purpose well. Billy had made it all, and Edith wished the house fireplace would draw as well.
 
He found Evelyn on her knees before a hot fire, bravely trying to hold level one of the several pots that were sizzling there. Her hair her small hot face, and stood like dew on her anxious little upper lip.
 
“What’s the matter, Kiddie? ! Those big girls ought not to leave you alone with that fire; you’ll be cooked before the grub!” he while he mended the fire and the kettle. “Yum, yum! Things a-doin’ here. Makes a feller’s stomach feel like just before Thanksgiving dinner.”
 
Evelyn relieved of her fear of the kettle, roused to her charge. “Go ’way, Billy! Thank you, Billy. You mustn’t stay here! They’ll scold me. They said for me not to let you come; an’—”
 
“Why not, I’d like to know? Isn’t this my shack? And shall I let a kid burn up?”
 
“But it’s a secret,” she whispered in smothered . “Please to go!”
 
And Billy seeing sweet potatoes sticking out of hot ashes, and other luxuries in evidence, concluded that some business was “doin’ among the girls,” where he wouldn’t be welcome. He went back to the “Front,” where some of the contractors were having a violent over the meaning of certain . The Boss soon arbitrated successfully, and things moved “lively” for a short time, when the[55] banging of a dishpan announced dinner at “the hotel.”
 
“Right this way, ladies and gentlemen,” Bess called from the edge of the far terrace. “A dinner fit for the gods, and nectar; gifts from and Fornax! Come up to the garden of the gods and goddesses and feast together!”
 
Bess, though not quite twelve, was a striking girl, larger than most women; with a mind as unusual as her body. Poetry, music, , she fed upon these as a plant upon the sunshine. She was not satisfied with ordinary speech, but continually wove into the most commonplace events the glamour of romance and words. A wise mother had stood between her and the of the thoughtless, that she might have a normal girlhood; and Billy’s mother and sister helped to make it possible for her to play comfortably with those of her own age. Yet it was a surprise to the stranger to see this dark-eyed, magnificent woman-creature in short skirts with children.
 
To-day she was happy. It had fallen to her to general this great feast that Billy’s mates had planned for the celebration of his birthday. All had contributed. Not only the girls had cooked—Jean had baked a big cake, Jackson had made the candy, and Jimmy and George had up from the “Front,” and set up the long table in the .
 
According to plan, Billy’s mother had called and detained him while the score of laughing youngsters gathered and stood silently around the table. When he was running across the lawn again, his face washed and hair combed, matters he thought might well have been omitted when time was so precious, he was struck by the strange stillness. What had happened to stop every tongue at once? He ran on faster, through the trellis gate, and halted, transfixed. A shout greeted him. Each one waved a small flag, and sang lustily—
 
“Where have you been, Billy Boy, Billy Boy?
Oh, where have you been, charming Billy?”
He looked at the beaming faces, at the beautiful table with Jean’s great cake in the centre, the dates, 1893-1906, in ; at the flowers everywhere; at the dishes,—they usually ate from vine leaves at their out-of-door feasts,—at the paper napkins folded fantastically and over the table like gay butterflies. His face told his surprise, his , his delight. He opened his mouth to speak some fitting word, but it wouldn’t come. He tried again, for he felt the occasion called for something formally . But only a whimsical idea flitted into his mind; and he sang back—
 
“I’ve not been to seek a wife,
You can bet your old sweet life,
For I’m a young thing and cannot leave my mother.”
A gleeful yell greeted his . While they ate it all came out, how they had planned and executed. Harold had peas and strawberries hidden in his mysterious basket, freshly gathered by his own hands that morning. George and Jimmy had furnished and dressed the chickens, and the girls had roasted them—with a little from Mrs. Bennett—in the Yukon camping stove that belonged to Harry’s mother. Bess had given the dishes, blue and white , strong as well as good to the eye, and ready for many another frolic.
 
Max furnished the milk. “I haf gif mine cow much sugar to make dot milk sweet for Pilly to-day,” he explained happily to Mrs. Bennett.
 
And so the story went on. All the wholesome things of the country that children like had come from one and another. And each had been as happy in giving as Billy could possibly be in receiving.
 
Bess, an only child, was usually present at the[59] frequent entertainments her parents gave, and was familiar with some of the more formal table customs. She wished Billy’s dinner to have every dignity, and to this end rose and proposed a toast to him. They drank it , with cheers. And Billy, accustomed to having the largest voice in every noise, stood and joined lustily; till Jackson, who helped his father at the for banquets, and knew a thing or two, reached behind Jean and pulled the back of Billy’s coat violently. “Pst! Set down!” he , .
 
And Billy, suddenly remembering who was being cheered, slid to his seat sheepishly, a cold feeling down his back, uncomfortable heat in his cheeks.
 
Jean changed the situation by proposing a toast to Billy’s new sister.
 
“Half-sister, step-sister, persister, or sister-in-law—” Jimmy began, when Billy’s frown stopped him, and Bess interrupted with, “He thinks he’s saying something : laugh everybody.”
 
But Jean at once and . “Here’s to our latest addition. May she never be subtracted from us. Already she’s multiplied our joys, yet we hope she’ll not have to divide our .”
 
Jimmy was the first to stand and cheer.
 
May Nell sat still and smiled modestly. Billy stared at her, feeling still more foolish over his own mistake.
 
Presently Jimmy and George slipped away and quickly returned bearing a huge freezer, Mrs. Bennett following. Now Billy knew what she had done with the cream.
 
“It’s only your notion, Billy, that mother’s cream is best; but I’ve been very happy making it for you.” She began at once to serve it.
 
“Billy, you’re a wise guy. This beats Maskey’s,” Harold declared.
 
“There isn’t any Maskey’s any more,” May Nell mourned; “just ashes and old irons where used to be such oceans of goodies in such beautiful boxes and dishes.”
 
All were silent for a little. Most of them had been more than once to San Francisco’s in sweets.
 
“Do you know how ice cream is made, May Nell?” Jimmy asked to break the oppression.
 
“No; will you tell me?”
 
“First they feed the cow a barrel of sugar, then they freeze her, after that milk her; and there you have your ice cream.”
 
May Nell looked incredulous. “And they feed her strawberries and beans and chocolate for flavors, I suppose; but how do you separate them when you milk? Will you show me the next time you fill that big bucket?” She nodded her head toward the freezer, and was so that not even Bess, still less Jimmy, knew whether she was deceived or fun.
 
May Nell was astonished at the country appetites, astonished at her own; yet the cream also disappeared; after which Bess, the magnificent, rose, waved her hand toward Mrs. Bennett, and declaimed,
 
“Here’s to our mothers,
Better than all others,
Whose feet never tire,
Whose hearts never—”
Just then took possession of Harry Potter. He dropped a paper parcel behind Vilette, and a little green snake out and ran under the table. Vilette only grinned, but May Nell saw it, screamed and grew white.
 
“Oh, oh! It ran—across my—foot!” she , and fell over.
 
Confusion followed. Harry was struck with a great fear. Was she dead? He had never seen a girl do so before. Would they hang him?
 
But May Nell recovered almost before Mrs. Bennett had time to lift her. “I often do—do—faint,” she apologized, “it isn’t—isn’t ’t all dangerous.” She smiled at Mrs. Bennett, and the smile, the sweet, pale little face with her hair a shining golden halo around it, made of her an ethereal being almost unreal to the awestricken children. Yet she was soon merry again, as well as ever.
 
The hours passed in an of fun. The table was , toys, tools, and dishes put away, and the feast had sped into the past.
 
“It’s been the best ever,” Jean said, happily.
 
“A gorgeous occasion,” Bess supplemented.
 
“The bulliest time yet!” shouted Charley from the street.
 
“Mine stomach ist so full mine head cannot t’ink,” Max to Mrs. Bennett; “but it vas bravo!”
 
They all went off, a merry, noisy troop. And the disappearing sun was the last to say to Billy “Good-night.”