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“How is your Ada since she had the jaundice, Mrs. Stolway?” inquired Airs. Bliggins. “Stop that there ‘Dead March of Saul,’ an’ go put on yer overalls,” ordered Mrs. Wopp, “what’s the idear of the gardenin’ tool, go git the littlest shovel to put inter the chimbly, an’ don’t let the grass grow under yer feet, neither.” The light shone through the colored glass window, casting a bluish tinge over the large earnest countenance of the teacher, and a distinct whisper was heard to the effect that “Mrs. Wopp’s face was blue moulderin’.”.
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Conrad
Miss Gordon complied, then followed the old favorite with a two-step played in as sprightly a manner as the organ would allow. “Now Moses,” announced his mother, “Jist for a change an’ rest like, turn this here separator.” From the lower slopes of the Cedar Hills issued many wide wooded ravines. Of these none were prettier than Spring Coulee which even in winter retained its attractiveness, having a goodly sprinkling of evergreen trees among the poplars and cottonwoods lining its sides. A grassy level formed the bottom of the coulee. Through the centre of this a little crystal-clear stream, rising in the hills behind and swelled by an occasional spring which gushed from the sides of the ravine, danced over its pebbly bed to join Berry Creek a mile away. When Edith planned to turn her pupils’ recital into a great Spring Festival, for the benefit of the sufferers, all the town applauded, and asked how it could help..
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