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Before answering, Mr. Wopp solemnly handed Moses first the reins then the dog, after which he slowly and carefully descended himself. “No; well,” came the answer. “Yes, Mr. Brown,” he answered, keeping his face from sight..
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“He will dig up a worm from the ground, an’ while the worm stands on one foot with droopin’ head the robin’ll pick it up an’ carry it orff to feed the baby robins.” “Dad an’ Mosey don’t look orful happy,” she laughed. “Smile at me, Mosey.” Diligently as Betty had tended this little garden, it was considered to be a family possession, the child’s own particular treasures lying beyond its fragrant border. Her cherished morning-glories and climbing nasturtiums found a welcome support in the old wooden fence. “Aint it amazin’ how hungry one gits,” hoarsely remarked Mr. Wopp who had not spoken for some time owing to close application to the task in hand. “Lize, I want a piece of that punkin pie of yourn.” Here he caressed the bulging buttons on his waistcoat. “My mouth’s waterin’ fer it an’ I b’lieve I hev room.”.
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