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CHAPTER XVII.—A SAMPLE OF EBENEZER WOPP’S IRE. “Peter Stolway, may I arsk you to tell out loud what you was whisperin’?” “The whale went splurgin’ an’ splutterin’ through the waves, mebbe blowin’ up a big waterspout like we see them doin’ in the jography picters. Then Joner prayed like everything an’ wrastled with the Lord, an’ his prayer was heerd, an’ the whale spit him up on the bank.”.

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“Ain’t she her own aunt?” hazarded Mr. Wopp, abstractedly thrusting his hammer into his boot top and scratching his bald head with a pair of pincers. “When I see Moses was still wearin’ his best Sunday coat an’ pants an’ tearin’ along on that cayuse like John Gilping, I come all out in goose-flesh, Ebenezer, till you’d think the merkery had fell clean down to zero.” Mrs. Mifsud, in the lead of the rescuing party, ran through the garden gate in time to see St. Elmo fall headlong, his feet having become entangled in the long rank grass near the fence. A faint sound caught his ear, as of clinking coins and soft voices. People there! He had thought it before, now he was certain. Were not both brothers away?.