old folks to
the party before he and Hank could put in an appearance. But his wife
and little Billy were there, little Billy with his ruddy hair curling
about his merry little face and his eyes dancing at everything and
every one.

Green Valley was full of lovable little ones, but they were as a rule
kept closely sheltered in the front and back yards. But Billy was a
town baby. His days were spent in and around his father's livery barn.
He went to his twelve o'clock dinner perched on Hank Lolly's shoulder,
and it had gotten so no gathering of men in his father's office was
considered complete without him.

And maybe it was just as well; for since Billy's coming there was less
careless language, less careless gossip. And if some one's tongue did
slip now and then, Hank Lolly had a way of putting his head in and
saying solemnly:

"Guess you forgot that Mrs. Evans' boy was around when you said that."

For Hank Lolly was little Billy's proud godfather and Billy's welfare
was a matter that kept Hank awake nights.

It was Hank who introduced little Billy to all the livery horses and
patiently developed deep friendships between the animals and the child.

"I've fixed it so's no horse of ourn'll ever hurt the boy. But that
ain't saying that somebody's ornery critter won't harm him. There's
some awful mean horses in this town, Billy," Hank worried. But Billy
Evans only laughed.

"Hank," he said, "with you and God taking turns minding that kid, and
his ma and me doing a little now and then, I guess he'll grow up."

So Billy was at the minister's party, as were very nearly all the other
Green Valley youngsters. For these were old-fashioned folks whose
entertainments were so simple and harmless that children could always
be present.

As a matter of fact Green Valley folks never had to be entertained.
All one had to do was to call them together and they entertained
themselves.

Cynthia's son knew this. So he had made no elaborate plans. He knew
too that it was the old homestead they came to see, and to find out
what that poolroom man was doing in his back yard, and why Hen Tomlins
had been coming up so regularly, and why Bernard Rollins had been
asking to see people's old albums for the past three months.

So Cynthia's son had no programme. He just threw open every door and
invited them to walk through and look. He explained that in the
kitchen his housekeeper, Mary Dooley, and her two cousins from Meacham