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On the wall hung a gilt-framed portrait, which rumor said represented Ebenezer Wopp, a wreath of carefully made wax flowers, a silver coffin-plate framed and bearing the name and date of demise of Mr. Wopp’s mother, and two or three colored chromos. “Golly! Wish’t I had time to stay an’ watch. But I won’t, Betsey; I’ll go right now.” “All over the house does she put them?” the child asked after she had snipped a fragrant heap..
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When the party reached the house and St. Elmo had been received with every manifestation of joy, Mr. Wopp in one burst of eloquence explained how his boy Moses had found him. Moses, the hero of the hour, stood abashed before the encomiums of Mrs. Mifsud. He twirled his hat at a fearful rate on his doubled fist, standing awkwardly on one foot the while. “Well, I’ll see,” replied Moses, but as he plunged his hand again into his pocket the cheerful jingle of coins stirred his masculine sense of ownership to profounder depths and he frowned and turned on his heel. “Yeh Mar, I’m comin’.” Warwick Bro’s & Rutter, Limited, Printers and Bookbinders, Toronto, Canada..
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