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A dull yellow glow from the kerosene lamp, placed by Moses on the bureau, lighted up the figure of Betty reclining on snowy pillows. On one side of her was seated Howard, his arm about the drowsy child. On the side of the bed, squarely seated on one of Mrs. Wopp’s texts worked into the patchwork quilt, was Nell, watching the little pallid face and trying to avoid the eyes of her silent lover. “Mannel Rodd, did you ever ketch a fish?” “You look orful, jist like you was growin’ a pair of speckled toothbrushes. What ’ll Mar say? You carn’t go to school like that.”.
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“Well, he ain’t dead; he’s alive and bully, with a wad that bulges. I’m going to take you to him.” “In a minute I heard the teentiest little mew. I looked and there was Tom crouched against the side of the house. He was shivering with fright, and that old tramp cat was eating up his breakfast.” “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. The infant class which was to be under the guidance of Mrs. Wopp for the day, consisted of seven small pupils. They were seated on a low bench in one corner of the church. Green denim curtains were hung in such a way that, after the preliminary devotional exercises, the little class could be screened from the adults and older pupils. A blackboard stood on the floor, and upon a table near by were many colored crayons. The infantile mind required such aids to the imagination..
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