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Mrs. Wopp’s suggestion had an immediate and salutary effect on the boy. Moses’ face became as mournful as his music had been. It was as though he had suddenly realized that life was, after all, more serious than one suspects in one’s idle moments. “Never mind grammar, or spelling, whichever it is; what did Flash do?”.

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“I carn’t think what’s happened to my carrots this year,” said Mrs. Wopp, vexedly, after a time. “Hardly any hev come up, an’ them as did come, aint growed much. We’ll shorely not hev many carrot puddin’s nor pies this winter, nor mulligans neither.” The concluding part of this speech was of vital interest to Moses, who delighted in all the delicacies mentioned. In the hours of joy that followed, joy known only to boys and farms in conjunction, Billy,—and it was unusual for him,—more than once recalled his mother’s words; heeded them to the extent of bidding Harold a reluctant good-bye when the sun was still blazing high above the horizon. But when, on his way home, he came to the branching of the road his good resolution weakened. He looked back. The sun was surely more than an hour high. He would have time to go up the hill road to the “Ha’nt.” And, beside that, he wished to look at the river where its divided flow encircled a tiny, shrub-grown island. A three-legged rooster appeared. And Sir Thomas Katzenstein, according to schedule, roamed his box in great agitation, though in fine form, impressively carrying out the label on his cage, “Baby Royal Bengal Tiger.” “Now Mosey, you be ticket man at the gate an’ I’ll hev the circus all ready,” cried Betty bounding into the house in the shortest possible time after the departure of the elderly merrymakers..