Moses adored his little foster-sister when she was well; but sick, his turned to blind worship. For several days Betty had been ill. Moses’ religion, bottled up during care-free days, burst in of intercession for Betty’s return to health.  
“Oh, Lord, she’s orl I got,” he . He hinted that there would be no more light in him, than in Job’s blind eye, should Betty be lost to him.
 
The first sign of return to health was indicated by a slight querulousness that seem to claim as their . The convalescent wanted books and pictures, her discarded favorite, Hannah, stiff with long neglect, and her pets individually and collectively. Then having run the of dumb playmates, she called for her beloved friends.
 
“I want Howard Eliot,” she cried, “he can sing so lovely, an’ I want Miss Gordon, she’s so comfortin’.”
 
All this time Mrs. Wopp ran breathlessly up and down stairs attending to the child. Even wash-day was , but the terrors of that event would never again Moses, he felt sure, if only Betty got well. Ebenezer Wopp was distracted and neglected to take his usual number of notes.
 
Directly the invalid’s querulous demand for the rancher was made, Moses started off to fetch him.
 
“Wot’s the use of livin’ if Betty grows them there wings they talk of?” he demanded of the as they from his path.
 
When the two arrived, Nell Gordon was sitting with the sick child and crooning softly to her. Howard Eliot drew near, accidentally the firm round arm of Nell as he did so.
 
“Man is born to trouble as the sparks fly upwards,” quoted Mrs. Wopp. “We’ve had sich a time, but I’m shore our li’l Mornin’-Glory is gittin’ better now.” She gazed at the child with true affection. “She’s lookin’ kinder peart agin.”
 
“Glory must git better, nothin’s no fun no more,” Moses.
 
“Betty’s not goin’ to no kingdom come yet,” assured Mrs. Wopp, her optimism rising like a star of the first magnitude to lighten the darkness of her son’s midnight sky.
 
“There’s no mention of circus-ladies going there anyway,” said Howard, smiling. This reference to her attempts to out-barnum Barnum brought a bright smile to the face of Betty.
 
“Don’t stan’ there fillin’ the like a bung in a barrel, Moses,” reprimanded Mrs. Wopp. “That boy’s gone clean . Go an’ fetch the lamp, it air giftin’ so dark I can’t tell which is Glory an’ which is Miss Gordon.”
 
As Moses down stairs, Mrs. Wopp continued, “There is shore a thunderstorm comin’ up to-night. ’Pears to me I heerd like a roll of drums.”
 
A dull yellow glow from the lamp, placed by Moses on the bureau, lighted up the figure of Betty reclining on snowy pillows. On one side of her was seated Howard, his arm about the child. On the side of the bed, squarely seated on one of Mrs. Wopp’s texts worked into the quilt, was Nell, watching the little face and trying to avoid the eyes of her silent lover.
 
“Been talkin’ to a grave-digger?” Mrs. Wopp, of her offspring, as Moses selected a comfortable seat, his sober face still bearing traces of the last few days’ anxiety. She looked on the of Moses with an approving eye, but it was necessary, however, to hide her maternal pride by a series of assaults upon him on every possible . Her banterings also helped to keep her son and heir in the .
 
“There’s Mose allers ready fer a sitdown, a sort of kerlapsible verlise.”
 
During Betty’s illness these one-sided dialogues were more than usually . In this way only was Mrs. Wopp able to the “gnawin’ at her heart-strings” as she said, at having Betty so ill. It also kept the boy alive to the fact that life’s path was not strewn with “cabbage roses.” Such, at least, were the confidences poured into the sympathetic ear of his pinto.
 
Moses capitalized his bulk to effectively fill the large chair into which he sank. He surveyed with approval the new trousers presented to him by Miss Gordon, and tried to from his mind the ignominy that had attended the wearing of the ill-fitting pair. Those discarded checked monstrosities under Moses’ bed in close with a pair of and muddy shoes. It was so sweet to the boy to see signs of in Betty that he took great comfort in just gazing on her pale face with its wisps of fair hair across the forehead. He summed up his general attitude to life by whispering to himself, “I don’t give a doughnut fer orl the check pants in Alberta.”
 
A low of thunder was heard in the distance and a flash of lightning made the coal-oil lamp look like a spot in the room.
 
“Sing something, .” Betty’s voice broke the silence.
 
“What’ll I sing Betty?”
 
“Oh, the song ’bout the clouds rollin’ away,” she yawned, “I want everybody to be happy.” She looked at her teacher and Nell wondered if the child had read her heart and had seen its unhappiness.
 
“Wait till the clouds roll by, Jenny,
Wait till the clouds roll by,
Jenny, my own true loved one
Wait till the clouds roll by.”
 
Mrs. Wopp’s voice, a dramatic outburst before which almost any cloud would have , filled the bedroom. Betty turned to Nell Gordon, “I hope all yer clouds’ll hev silver linin’s, Miss Gordon,” she smiled.
 
“Why, Betty?”
 
“’Cause I love you, ’n’ I hope the edges’ll be all pink like my mornin’-glories.”
 
Howard caught Nell’s gaze. He longed to gather the girl who had so completely captured his heart into his arms and kiss away their .
 
“I think the linin’ of Miss Gordon&rsqu............