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“What’s matter’s Gordon?” he enquired anxiously. Presently, Moses made for the yard and on his way, offered tribute to Betty by standing on his head on the mat at the door. “What has happened to you, Billy?” his mother questioned sharply as she turned at his voice and saw his damaged head. “You’re hurt, Billy!”.
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Conrad
The work went on, each length at the first possible opportunity resuming its state of strict neutrality and refusing to be drawn into negotiations. The Wopp parlor was seldom entered, except on very special occasions or when Mrs. Wopp with formality and no undue haste dusted the furniture. The room had an air of solemnity and gloom, absent in the cheerful dining-room where the family usually sat. A homemade rag carpet covered the floor. Six slippery, horsehair chairs, one of them a rocker, and a horsehair couch, which did not invite confidence, were ranged stiffly around the sides of the room. In one corner was an ancient organ, wheezy and querulous with neglect, and in another stood a lofty what-not, on whose numerous shelves were deposited the family treasures. Here, was a woolly lamb at one time beloved of Moses; there his tin savings bank. Stiffly upright stood Betty’s wax doll Hannah, seldom played with and then only for a few minutes at a time. Mrs. Wopp was represented by a few shell boxes and a match box of china flanked by a sleek china cat. Miss Gordon complied, then followed the old favorite with a two-step played in as sprightly a manner as the organ would allow. “Well, old Tom’ll have to be cleverer than I ever saw him to pay for that.”.
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