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“I did hunt the aigs,” lied the unhappy Moses who was afraid he was going to miss something. Max, whose father was a gardener, knew wizard’s tricks with seeds and soils; and as Farmer and Forester to the syndicate, gave his knowledge right and left with happy importance. He taught the girls how to plan and plant their flower beds, and started the boys on a career of vegetable-raising that made them feel rich before they began; talked trees to Harold and other farmer boys, and astonished his father by the questions he asked and the work he did. “Jeth could whip your ole mongrel; but I don’t warnt him bit up,” called Moses over his shoulder as he walked away. To this taunt Clarence replied only with a hideous grimace..

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“Oh, no,” he sighed; “I suppose duty is the first business; but duty is such a narrow, knock-you-down little word.” His voice was tense and hard. The audience made an impetuous dash to the scene of the fatality and as he stooped over the dripping yellow-frocked figure a jolt of even greater proportions upset the bucket entirely; a deluge of the unsavory mixture almost knocked off his knightly helmet and trickled from its rusty edges till he looked like a very rotund and rakish Don Quixote. A loud whisper from Pete Stolway disturbed the orator. Mrs. Wopp was much too energetically engaged to enter into fuller argument. She busied herself preparing the tubs for rinsing, singing in a high tremolo, “Shall we gather at the river?”.