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One by one the articles were brought forward, and last of all from a back corner Farrington slowly dragged forth an iron box with a white cross mark upon it. A shout of triumph rose from those who first beheld it, and then yells of derision. "Order!" commanded the chairman. "Is that Billy Fletcher's box?" "Y-y-es."

"Y-y-es," Sinclair replied; "but I feel better now. I didn't mean to disturb you." "And look here!" Stephen cried, who had at length reached the bottom of the bundle. "Well, I declare! Two packages of Red Rose tea! Hurrah! Now we kin have some fer Christmas." "And you, poor man," she said turning to Sinclair, "shall have a good strong cup just as soon as I can make it.

Humility was the correct attitude for insignificant girls toward such superior creatures as boys, and Monty waxed magnanimous, replying: "Oh, y-y-es! I'll f-f-forgive you. But I don't see. G-g-gir-ls can't run like boys." "Can't they, indeed? Well, you ran like a hare, and I just as fast. There was mighty little space between us, honey, and you may believe it. How else should I have known the way?

"I know enough about it," Mrs. Temple declared, with some asperity, "to see that she will be the same Olivia Guion after her father has gone to prison as she was in the days of her happiness. If there's any change, it will be to make her a better and nobler character. She's just the type to be to be perfected through suffering." "Y-y-es," Drusilla admitted, her head inclined to one side.