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Mr. Crump indulged in an unusual hobby, the collection of old musical instruments, and a motley group it was that Moses eyed with growing wonder. “Was it as bad as that?” She smiled, and smoothed back the thick, tumbled hair. “What’s next?”.

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It was Saturday afternoon on a busy street in the city. Moses Wopp and Clarence Crump, at whose home the former was spending the week end, were on their way to the skating-rink. If they had wanted to skate there, the streets would have accommodated them with a sufficiently smooth surface, as an early frost had rimed the pavement. “Perhaps not,” answered Nell, “I can see there are wonderful possibilities in this vast country. Some day this prairie will be dotted here and there with prosperous towns. But don’t let us be serious. Here’s a grand place for a race. I know ‘Ladybird’ can beat ‘The Kid.’” It seemed to him that his voice made no sound; that May Nell never ran so slowly; that the travellers would surely not hear him, not stop. How could they hear in all the noise? “By heck!” ejaculated Mr. Wopp who sat in the front seat beside his wife and Betty. Then he glanced hastily around to see if anyone had noticed his irreverent outburst. But no one had. They were all too intent on other matters..