so close was the affiliation between betty and moses that exactly three-quarters of an hour after her departure with miss gordon for calgary the impetuous youth was at the rancher’s home trying to inveigle him into a conspiracy to follow the holiday-makers to that city of dazzling attractions.
nothing loth to keep the distance between himself and nell at a minimum, howard eliot entered with zest into the boy’s plans.
“mar said she’d like to see the sights too onct again,” said moses, watching with the air of an investigator the wart on his hand grow pale as he punched it with his finger, “it seemed so lonesome-like soon as betty an’ miss gordon left, mar says, says she, ‘let’s go plum to calgary ourselves’.” this diplomatic stroke crowned moses’ arguments and his case was won.
as mrs. wopp adjusted her bonnet before leaving the house, she gave minute instructions to mr. wopp.
“you’d think this here day’s trip to calgary was a journey to jeroosalem,” he complained, all his slips of paper used up in jottings to remind him of duties imposed.
“well i only go ’way about onct in a blue moon,” declared mrs. wopp, “an’ i feel so unsartin ’bout everything. here we are a pack of gadarene swine goin’ orff to a great city to eat husks i s’pose like the prodigal son. never mind ebenezer we’ll come back right glad i’ll bet to the fatted calf.” she pinched his ear in an elephantine playfulness as though he might be the fatted calf himself.
howard eliot guided his charges through the mazes of the city to a restaurant. moses with the perennial appetite of fourteen ate silently and steadily, not omitting one item on the menu. he gorged.
mrs. wopp’s bonnet with its imitation osprey looked as though adorned with fragments of barbed-wire. her jet earrings seemed entirely superfluous as the lobes of her generous ears glowed like rubies.
howard sat back in his chair and thought of the possibilities of seeing nell. he reflected that they were as good as engaged. mrs. wopp had given her diagnosis of the case enigmatically, perhaps, but with a degree of accuracy denoting keen observation on the evening of his last visit at the wopp household. for fully a fraction of a minute nell had let him hold her hand, and then her face all dimpling had turned to say good-night. he was rehearsing what he should say next time she dimpled so irresistibly and he breathed anathemas on his asinine conduct in being so shy and tardy. he was brought to the immediate present by moses who was regarding an ice-cream soda with suspicion.
“this froth looks like soapsuds,” he complained.
“soapsuds is moses’ strong weakness,” commented mrs. wopp, laughing till her fat shoulders quaked perilously.
to stay the cloud that began to gather over moses’ brow, howard suggested going to see a vaudeville show.
“oh mar,” asked moses as they passed a brilliantly colored and illuminated poster, “is them the actor people?”
“them’s thum,” was the sophisticated answer.
fate led the trio to the theatre where mr. zalhambra was playing. howard took his friends to a box and no sooner were they seated than he espied nell and betty.
the orchestra were tuning up, that delightful tilting at the notes that precedes the overture. to moses were revealed such vistaed glimpses of trees and mountains and rivers as his young eyes had never seen. he saw nothing but the gorgeous scenery and the blaze of lights, and heard nothing but the booming of the drum in the overture. then becoming more used to the glare and clamor, he cocked one eye aloft and saw youths of his own age eating peanuts in the gallery. it made his mouth water. he surveyed the obnoxious offenders however with the nonchalance of one who has already dined sumptuously. outwardly moses was an overgrown, freckle-faced, well-fed boy of commonplace propensities; inwardly he was a battery fully charged.
the first act over, a troop of black-faced comedians occupied the stage.
“jist look at that black man’s chest swellin’ in an’ out like an accorjun,” remarked mrs. wopp highly entertained with the sight. moses leaned over till he was in danger of capsizing. his eager look trailed off into a point of vacuity when the performers left the stage. bewilderment had left his eyes incapable of properly focussing. suddenly he caught sight of betty and he could hardly repress an exclamation of joy as he pointed her out to his mother.
“don’t betty look jist too sweet,” she murmured when she had finally located the child, “her hair looks as ef she had got tangled up in the milky way an’ there was nothin’ on it but star-dust.”
the pianist walked on the stage as the eyes of mrs. wopp and moses rested on betty. howard eliot had not taken his gaze from nell gordon expecting momentarily to catch her glance and to be rewarded by a smile. a smile radiated her fair face, but alas! it was not for him.
as the program went on moses finally caught the eye of his little sister. the joyful news was passed on and nell looked up, but it was a disconcertingly cold look that returned her inquiring gaze at howard. so frigid was his expression that she did not attempt to turn her head in that direction again. from time to time betty turned to wave her hand thereby causing much merriment among those who watched her childish enjoyment.
when the program was over moses noticed enviously that betty was so close to the orchestra that her ear was almost in the trombone.
“wisht i hed a chance to holler into one of them brass dinner-horns, too,” he grumbled.
mrs. newman and nell waited after the show for the unique trio that had occupied the box but they were nowhere to be seen. howard eliot had whisked his companions off under a pretext of urgent business.
the next day was spent in sight seeing but visions of neglected poultry and cows haunted the anxious housewife, and notwithstanding the expostulations of moses they started home that evening.
mrs. wopp surmised from the dejected appearance of the young rancher, coupled with the smiles over the footlights which she had observed with rising wrath, that trouble was brewing, and she whispered audibly to herself, “a musician’s orl right on a pianner stool, but when it comes to gittin’ up in the mornin’ an’ choppin’ wood to bile the kettle give me a farmer.” her cogitations became louder. “i s’pose he thinks cos he has a percession of carpital letters arter his name he can git anyone fer the arskin’. when he smiled so at our miss gordon i could of slain him with the jawrbone of an arss.” in her championship of howard’s interests, mrs. wopp became an ardent villifier of the pianist and she administered an oral castigation with feminine vigor.
“that man zalhambone’s playin’ rasped all up an’ down my spine,” she criticized. then harking back to thrills she really had felt despite her prejudice, she admitted grudgingly, “my, but his han’s did fly over them keys permiscuous-like.”
“he smiles sich a toothy grin,” commented moses.
“put a nose an’ eyes over his own planner an’ you’d think there’s the man hisself,” flung back mrs. wopp.
presently moses’ thoughts returned to the meals provided by the restaurants of calgary, and he decided it would be a good pastime for some rainy day to relate it all to betty especially about the “little minners suffercated in rice an’ tryin’ to climb onto rafts of lemon-slices.”
howard eliot having left his charges safely at home went to his lonely ranch haunted by rebellious thoughts which mrs. wopp would have translated, “here endeth my knowledge of the female speeshie.”
