embroidery as a first julep for my friends, a sweetness came in through
my window that took my breath away and I lay still with my hand over my
heart and listened. It was Billy singing right under my window, and I've
never heard him do it before in all his five years. It was the dearest
old-fashioned tune ever written and Billy sang the words as distinctly
as if he had been a boy chorister doing a difficult recitative. My heart
beat so it shook the lace on my breast like a breeze from heaven as he
took the high note and then let it go on the last few words.

"If you love me, Molly, darling,
Let your answer be a kiss!"


A confused recollection of having heard the words and tune sung by my
mother when I was at the rocking age myself brought the tears to my eyes
as I flew to the window and parted the curtains. If you heard a little
boy-angel singing at your casement wouldn't you expect a cherubim face
upturned with heaven-lights all over it? Billy's face was upturned as he
heard me draw the shade, but it was streaked like a wild Indian's with
decorations of brown mud and he held a long slimy fish-worm on the end
of a stick while he wiped his other grimy hand down the front of his
linen blouse.

[Illustration: I lifted him into my arms]

"Say, Molly, look at the snake I brunged you!" he exclaimed as he came
close under the sill, which is not high from the ground. "If you put
your face down to the mud and sing something to 'em they'll come outen
they holes. A doodle-bug comed, too, but I couldn't ketch 'em both. Lift
me up and I can put him in the water-glass on your table." He held up