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One brilliant Sunday Mr. Wells paced up and down in the sunshine before his little church. An ardent lover of nature he was admiring the beautiful shades of the foliage on either hand and the gorgeous masses of golden-rod that lifted feathery heads to the sun. Presently seeing two or three vehicles approaching he retired into the church. As the program went on Moses finally caught the eye of his little sister. The joyful news was passed on and Nell looked up, but it was a disconcertingly cold look that returned her inquiring gaze at Howard. So frigid was his expression that she did not attempt to turn her head in that direction again. From time to time Betty turned to wave her hand thereby causing much merriment among those who watched her childish enjoyment. “Billy, my little, little boy!” She lifted the tousled head and pressed her cheek close against his..
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“Pore Joe! Truly the way of the transgressor is hard. I feel bad fer him, to think he has to set round all evenin’ and carnt even git up to git a drink of water fer hisself.” “What a funny word! What do you mean?” “Please, Mith Wopp, the latht windthorm upthet our hen-houth.” “He’s been pushin’ up the daisies fer thirty years, I ain’t goin’ to warble to please no tombstun.” Moses swung a ponderous foot to give emphasis to his decision..
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