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“That’s no giant. She isn’t bigger’n a kid. Will she let you come to play? The Gang’s coming to-morrow.” It was too bad! There could be no show in the barn. But the band was still lusty, the trick ponies remained, the boys and girls were eager to talk it over, and—the procession had been a success! Mrs. Wopp was too busy to eat breakfast in the orthodox fashion. She could be heard in the kitchen preparing for the trying ordeal of wash-day. Out in the yard the head of the house was busy feeding the fowl..

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Moses’ opinion, repressed, however, in his bursting bosom, was of a like complexion, only much more vivid. He was hesitating between the liquid verge of tears and the lambent verge of profane utterance. “Larst Tuesday,” she continued, “two p’licemen went ridin’ along the trail jist as we were comin’ home from school, an’ they had the beautifulest horses. Moses can ride any horse, no matter how ornery.” Betty’s eyes shone with pride. “Aint it amazin’ how hungry one gits,” hoarsely remarked Mr. Wopp who had not spoken for some time owing to close application to the task in hand. “Lize, I want a piece of that punkin pie of yourn.” Here he caressed the bulging buttons on his waistcoat. “My mouth’s waterin’ fer it an’ I b’lieve I hev room.” A kindly man held her by the hand, yet he was evidently a stranger to her..