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And gents your black and tan, On the morrow, before returning home, he made several purchases with the money his mother had slipped into his hand as she whispered, “Hev a good time, Mosey, but don’t fergit to say yer prayers reglar.” “Miss Gordon here, made me a harnsome lace yoke fer an underwaist, an’ give it to me fer my birthday,” volunteered Mrs. Wopp..
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“Why yes Betty, what do you suppose they will talk about?” “Do you know that piece of music called ‘The Rose of Larst Summer’?” inquired the musical connoisseur. Vigorously all joined in the closing hymn and Mrs. Wopp’s high soprano could be heard above all the other voices. A sense of duty well performed added even greater power to the vocal billowing. “Some of the real stuff,” he requested, “just to make these folks realize they haven’t begun to live yet.”.
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