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“Holy Smoke! Be this the River Jording I’ve come ter?” As Mrs. Wopp stood watching her family and the new teacher climb the hill on their way to school, she remarked to herself, “That boy jist naterly takes to mischief same as a gopher takes to my green peas.” She stood at the end of the creaking wharf, and one little bare arm was lifted high. She held a small fruit jar filled with water and beet juice. It was awkward, but Billy had insisted on the fruit jar,—“So’s it will be sure to break; it’s the only kind of a bottle that always will break.”.
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“I just said the whale must have been bustin’?” admitted Pete, reluctantly. Mrs. Wopp could not logically argue the point with the astute Peter, so she went on to depict vividly Jonah’s further vicissitudes. “Don’t tell—must Edith and May Nell know?” he called after her. “Oh, all the town will—mother!” The anguish in his words halted her. “Mother, this wasn’t a boys’ scrap at all. I didn’t think of you or—or anything; an’ something must have squelched Betsey, she never peeped. Mother, I felt—I felt mad enough to kill him!” He whispered the awesome words. “No, it isn’t, sister! I’ve thought of a way out. Keep the kids straight here—I’ll be back in a minute.” “Is theh faywies wound heah, Betty? Can they see us?” inquired the little boy in awe-struck tones..
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