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“There ain’t a shadder of a doubt Moses takes arter his Par in the gift of the gab,” was Mrs. Wopp’s genial rejoinder. “Yes; but—oh, Billy, it’s awful to have to grow up and be proper. I begged mamma not to put my dresses down, but I’m past thirteen, and big as she is. And—” “You romp!” came the disgusted voice once more. “You’d better cut your hair, and your skirts, and be a child again.”.

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It was Mrs. Wopp’s voice. From her remarks one would gather that the rarest perfumes wafted on the winds invoked by Solomon could never seem so sweet to Woppian nostrils as the mingled odor of hay and freshly dug carrots. There was a strange weight in his left side, like lead. He felt as if the whole world was against him; and the future looked dark and terrible. Three days ago life had reached out, a white shining road to success. Only three days! He looked north to where clouds were shutting down over the Mountain, gray to-day, not blue. The Mountain, every one called it, for it closed the valley and towered, a sentinel, far above all other mountains in view. Billy thought that stood for him; he was to be chained to this narrow valley all his life; struggle as he might he should never be free. While the strains of this enlivening classic were issuing from the asthmatic instrument, Moses and Betty in the more secular atmosphere of the hall were trying to fit the time to “Old Dan Tucker” their favorite dance. “What’ll I sing Betty?”.