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“Why have you been away out in the country for milk?” Vigorously cleaning up the still bewildered victim, Mrs. Wopp hurled fresh orders. “Yes; but I’m afraid my papa’s dead, he’s been gone so long.” How she hated that word “kid.”.

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Let us find our sweetest comfort As Mrs. Wopp stood watching her family and the new teacher climb the hill on their way to school, she remarked to herself, “That boy jist naterly takes to mischief same as a gopher takes to my green peas.” On such visits Mrs. Wopp enjoyed herself hugely. Her volubility was overpowering; as Mrs. Mifsud had been known to remark, “Not even a comma was there to clutch at to make good ones escape.” The faster her needle flew the faster raced her tongue. In view of the impending visit Mrs. Mifsud had surreptitiously stuffed one ear with cotton batting so that in the event of an extremely sanguinary onslaught, so to speak, at least one rampart of defence could be instantaneously thrown up. Ebenezer Wopp unlike his wife was expecting nothing but an afternoon of self-effacement though prepared to secretly admire to the full Mrs. Wopp’s sprightly conversation. “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..