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The Sheriff wondered at the boy’s vehemence, yet was too busy loading the wagon to pay much attention to him. “Think you’re fit, sonny? You look all in. Better ride to town—we’ll send some one for the little girl.” This interlude gave Mrs. Wopp an opportunity to recover her equilibrium which had been disturbed by her vivid conception and realistic description of the storm, all of which had necessitated startling gestures and a swaying, rocking movement of the body, illustrative of a ship in distress. “Just our age.”.

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“Then where are they?” demanded Mrs. Wopp. “You are as bad as Anias and Sapphire who was carried out feet foremost. Go when I tell you. An’ you Betty, go upstairs an’ mend that orful, yawnin’ gap in yer stockin’. Now we hev got rid of the younguns Howard, will you read out what you was larfin’ at?” “Oh, she’ll eat when she gets hungry, never fear.” “‘Place there the boy,’ the tyrant said Moses capitalized his bulk to effectively fill the large chair into which he sank. He surveyed with approval the new trousers presented to him by Miss Gordon, and tried to blot from his mind the ignominy that had attended the wearing of the ill-fitting pair. Those discarded checked monstrosities languished under Moses’ bed in close consultation with a pair of decrepit and muddy shoes. It was so sweet to the boy to see signs of convalescence in Betty that he took great comfort in just gazing on her pale face with its wisps of fair hair across the forehead. He summed up his general attitude to life by whispering to himself, “I don’t give a doughnut fer orl the check pants in Alberta.”.