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The disgusted artist got up and with a huge hand wiped his handkerchief across his perspiring brow. He was short and very thick set, with prominent forehead, bulging black eyes, coarse nose, thick red lips. “In that case, Clarence must take you to the Sunday-school hall to-morrow afternoon to hear a talk on China. There will be all sorts of curious things shown and you are sure to enjoy it.” Mrs. Wopp surmised from the dejected appearance of the young rancher, coupled with the smiles over the footlights which she had observed with rising wrath, that trouble was brewing, and she whispered audibly to herself, “A musician’s orl right on a pianner stool, but when it comes to gittin’ up in the mornin’ an’ choppin’ wood to bile the kettle give me a farmer.” Her cogitations became louder. “I s’pose he thinks cos he has a percession of carpital letters arter his name he can git anyone fer the arskin’. When he smiled so at our Miss Gordon I could of slain him with the jawrbone of an arss.” In her championship of Howard’s interests, Mrs. Wopp became an ardent villifier of the pianist and she administered an oral castigation with feminine vigor..

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“There isn’t any Maskey’s any more,” May Nell mourned; “just ashes and old irons where used to be such oceans of goodies in such beautiful boxes and dishes.” “I think you’ve broke my neck, kid,” he said, feebly, as quaking Billy helped him to his feet. As Mrs. Wopp adjusted her bonnet before leaving the house, she gave minute instructions to Mr. Wopp. Gamin’ out the thorns an’ charff,.