the silence was broken a little later by merry voices on the stairway. for several nights the girls had been gathering in may nell’s room. billy knew “things were doing” there by the sounds; the tap, tap of the tack hammer, added to much chatter and rustling. now may nell caught him by the hand and pulled him across the hall. a strange pungent fragrance like burning spice, yet not familiar, met them at the door. and inside, the dark hangings full of lurking shadows gave the room a foreign air.

the queen of sheba in gypsy dress, and her harum-scarum train buzzing with gossip and exclamation, flocked in. bess looked magnificent in a mass of draperies that included every oriental thing to be found in several families.

“jiminy whiz! your royal splendor dazzles me!” billy chaffed.

“i’m the royal egyptian fortune teller!” bess announced, in a deep voice. “this is my desert tent. i shall reveal the past, present, and future to those only whom my favor shall designate. slaves, the lamps!”

clarence and harry, much wrapped in white about the head, but with bare little white arms and bare little brown legs, came in solemnly and placed some red lanterns on the table. bess posed in a chair decorated for the occasion, arranged her draperies, pulled nearer the “incense lamp,” which was her father’s turkish cigar lighter, laid out her cards, and bent over them in grave silence.

her absorption hypnotized the others to wondering stillness. in a moment her attitude and intensity had transported them to the mysterious east, and put upon them the spell of ancient superstitions.

at last she looked up and pointed a startling finger at may nell. “mary ellen smith, my familiars, who guard the portals of futurity, declare that you shall be the first honored. minions, depart! slaves, guard the door!”

jean and the twins, charley, george and some others, rattled down the stairs; while clarence and harry stood rigid, with wooden scymitars drawn, one on each side of the door.

billy hesitated a minute. the dim room, the wicked-looking red lights, bess so stern and mysterious,—this might frighten the little girl. he ought to wait.

“avaunt, hesitating noddy! the angel child is quite safe!” bess waved an arm, partly bare and brown in spots.

“yes, go away, billy; i’m not afraid.” may nell laughed happily. her quick mind was delighted with the masquerading.

yet it was a very quiet little child that crept down to the others a few minutes later; when asked of her fortune she burst into tears.

mrs. bennett came in and tried to learn the trouble; but it was some time before may nell could be induced to tell.

“she said, the queen of sheba did, that i’d be in danger, and some one would save me. and i’d have a s’prise, and a hus—husband, and fi-five c-chil— children!” she wailed again and hid her face on mrs. bennett’s shoulder.

“golly! there’s nothing skewgee about that fortune,” billy commented, encouragingly.

“oh, yes; yes, there is, billy.” may nell lifted a teary face. “five children! if it had been two, or perhaps i could possibly bring up three; but f-five, o-o-oh!” she wailed again, heedless of the laughter around her.

several others were summoned and returned with remarkable reports. at last two high-pitched little voices called in concert down the[160] stair: “the royal seeress will rend the veil of futurity for william bennett.”

“that’s you, papa,” clarence piped, as an anxious post warning.

artful bess! billy had treated it all as a huge joke; but now may nell’s depression, the unfamiliar sound of his right name, the dim room with its shadows and half-suffocating odors,—all conspired to send a sober billy into the circle of lurid light that came from the two lamps gleaming on either side of dark bess like angry eyes.

a few minutes later the entire egyptian fortune-telling outfit came down stairs at billy’s heels. the hubbub was a riot of fun, and no one noticed that billy said nothing about the revelations of destiny made to him; though later jean recalled that in the zig-zag journey around the park that was billy’s evening exercise, he spoke very little to the chatterers with him, even forgot to “jolly.”

that night when mrs. bennett went into the fo’castle there was an unusual note in billy’s voice.

“stop and chin with me just a little, won’t you, marmsey?”

“and what’s the ‘chinning’ to be about?” she questioned, sitting on the bedside; “the fortune?”

billy looked at her wonderingly for an instant. “you guess everything that troubles a fellow, don’t you? how do you do it?” he sighed deeply.

“was it as bad as that?” she smiled, and smoothed back the thick, tumbled hair.

“worse! she said soon i’d have to be very brave—that ain’t bad—but i’m goin’ to be—to be a minister—a preacher!” the last word came with a woe-begone vehemence that made his mother laugh.

“why do you think that’s so dreadful?”

“o mother,” he began, excitedly, and stopped. only lately had he called her “mother” in his serious moments, and the name gave her pain as well as pleasure, for it was one more announcement of the coming man.

“mother,” he resumed, “i know i must freeze to some sort of business, and that mighty soon, too. but a preacher—why, he can’t be like anybody. he never has any fun.”

“do you think fun the first business of the world?”

“oh, no,” he sighed; “i suppose duty is the first business; but duty is such a narrow, knock-you-down little word.” his voice was tense and hard.

mrs. bennett continued her gentle, even strokes; bent and kissed him softly before replying. “duty looks narrow only when it opposes inclination, my child. selfish people hate duty; but those who live the longest and best lives could tell you that every victory duty wins brings an ever-increasing joy.”

“o mother, how can there be joy if life is all work and never any fun?” he took her hand and pressed it against his cheek.

“there’s a little secret about work; with grown-ups it is often their play; and they like it.”

“do you like to work?” his tone was insistent; and he lifted his head and looked hard at her, as if to challenge the tiniest bit of insincerity that might be lurking back of the words. “like to work?” he repeated with added emphasis.

“billy, i don’t think you could possibly have been happier on your birthday than i was; yet i was so tired that night that i could not sleep. the work of that day was play to me.”

billy threw both arms around her and hugged her.

“and there are many times when the duty itself is disagreeable, yet doing it brings a finer joy than shirking it ever could bring.”

“then i’ll be a—a preacher if i ought to. but gee! it’s rocky!”

“o billy,” his mother laughed, “you need not decide to-night. besides, it was all bess’s nonsense. i can’t quite imagine my heedless boy in a pulpit.”

billy thought he detected a touch of resigned disappointment in her words, and looked up with a sudden wonder widening his eyes, making them shine even in the dim light of the shaded lamp. “do you want me to preach, mamma?”

“not unless you wish to so much that you will not do anything else, billy. the world needs preachers of the right kind sadly; and the right kind take up the calling reverently, though they know it will bring them small worldly return and much toil.”

the boy was very still for a little, but burst out presently: “i’m going to work, mother; as soon as school closes i’ll start.”

he felt his mother start. “you’re too young for hard work, billy; you do enough as it is.”

“yes, when you and sister turn gray getting it out of me. no, i’m going to do real work that will earn money; and i’m going to take this never-get-enough grub-basket of mine to a table where my own hands have earned the grub.”

“billy! my—boy!” mrs. bennett bent over him; and he felt a tear where her cheek touched his.

“feel that muscle,” he said a moment later; bending his arm, and pressing her fingers to it. “that’s got to grow by a broom or hoe, something besides football!”

his words had a new ring, and his mother was wise enough to respect the young independence in them. “what brought you to this decision, billy?”

“you remember that story about a man who died for love of a girl because he knew he ought not to marry her? i thought that sort kind of noble, but you said there was nobler. do you remember?”

“no; i can’t recall what i said.”

“you said, ‘death is easy. it is much braver to live without the love one craves, to do one’s duty each day, and smile as the world goes by. that’s the finest love i know,’ you said.”

“well?” she questioned.

“i couldn’t understand it then. now i do. my own sister is that bravest of lovers.” his words rang with pride as well as love.

“why, billy, what has happened to make you think so?”

“last night i heard something on the q. t. i didn’t mean to, but i’m glad i did. i was in the pantry chuckin’ some bread an’ butter under my solar plexus when i heard mr. wright tell sister in the sitting-room—i guess some door was open a crack—that his law business was growing a little. i didn’t hear the next words, but there was ‘please’ in italics in his voice. but sister said, an’ i heard her plain enough, ‘no, hal, not till i’ve saved enough to take billy through school.’ ‘i’ll help—’ mr. wright got as far as that when this guy waked up,—knew he’d snuck information not intended for him. so i made a noise; i scatted the cat—no cat there—slammed the door, and kicked up a racket generally so’s they’d know i was there.”

mrs. bennett smiled. she thought they could have had no trouble in locating billy.

“then i went in an’ spoke to ’em ’s though i hadn’t heard a word, and hustled off to bed. i thought ’most all night, and decided that sister shan’t wait a day longer for me to grow up. i’m going to hustle for myself, so she can get married.”

“billy, my little, little boy!” she lifted the tousled head and pressed her cheek close against his.

“i’m going to work as soon ’s school’s out; it’s for you and may nell, too, you know.”

“but your school, my child! you must be educated; you—”

“yes, yes, marmsey; but there’s night shops where a fellow can gobble education by the hunk, you know, and—” he paused. even his own mother didn’t know the pang in his heart when he thought of jean and jimmy, and the others, going on together through the high school, perhaps the university.

mrs. bennett rose and tucked him in snugly. “let us drop it till school closes, billy. then we’ll talk it over.”

“all but finding the job, mother. jobs don’t hunt boys; and mine’s going to be waiting for me when the school house door shuts: that is, if i can persuade any man in the town or county that he needs a boy my size.”

mrs. bennett bade him good-night, and left him to the stars and the quiet night. her heart was still sore for the little boy of the past, yet a strange joy came to her; the thoughtful, observant, earnest man had heralded his coming. she should be very proud of him.