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As Mrs. Wopp was preparing for bed that night, she recalled the sensation the sight of her reckless offspring had given her. “Why doesn’t the Gang come, mamma?” he asked, returning the kiss he knew was one ahead for his natal day. “Ah Miss Gordon, I see you love the music too,” he murmured in her ear..

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Moses sat down to the task; but fearing his education was being interfered with, looked up from time to time and added a hoarse phrase to the general tumult. He caught Betty’s eye and significantly squinted his own right optic to remind her of Job, whereon Betty’s voice trailed off into a half-suppressed chuckle. 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. “Hello, Billy! You washin’ floors?” There was a sneer in Jimmy’s voice. “Please, Mister, my nose was bleedin’ an’ I lorst my way lookin’ fer warter, an’ here I am on Jording’s stormy banks.”.