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One brilliant Sunday Mr. Wells paced up and down in the sunshine before his little church. An ardent lover of nature he was admiring the beautiful shades of the foliage on either hand and the gorgeous masses of golden-rod that lifted feathery heads to the sun. Presently seeing two or three vehicles approaching he retired into the church. “Put a crown of pickled olerves on me,” demanded Moses, “me ’n Jethro beat.” He stood before his sister mopping his face. The express waggon with a wheel off was overturned and a frightened. “Cheep, cheep, cheep” came from beneath it. Moses’ intuition regarding St. Elmo’s retreat proved to be correct, and it was a sadly dejected countenance on which he gazed when he looked into the cave. Tears, dirt, and the juice of Saskatoon berries mingled on the fair sleeping face of the child, until he seemed to be the very Cree Indian he had so often personated in his play. His long curls were tangled and matted with small twigs. His diminutive brown velvet coat displayed a large rent in the elbow through which oozed a pathetic-looking suppuration of pink and white checked shirt..
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Viewing the upturned swill-pail, she suddenly became cynical. As Mrs. Wopp adjusted her bonnet before leaving the house, she gave minute instructions to Mr. Wopp. Moses regretted a hundred times his refusal to grant Betty’s request for two bits. He had since offered it and had tried to thrust it on her, but injured pride could not thus be appeased. “But couldn’t another pair have been born in Siam?” May Nell questioned; and as no one felt sufficiently informed to deny it, Harry and Clarence continued their strained relations..
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