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“Hurry up, Moses,” she called, as soon as her joy had subsided, “git those pipes finished an’ go arfter yor chores.” Mrs. Wopp obligingly gave as an encore, “There were ninety and nine,” apropos of nothing whatever. Then turning to a portrait on the wall, she enlarged on the musical ability of a great-uncle from whom she reckoned she had received her gift of song. The Queen of Sheba in gypsy dress, and her harum-scarum train buzzing with gossip and exclamation, flocked in. Bess looked magnificent in a mass of draperies that included every Oriental thing to be found in several families..

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Many times she had seen Mrs. Bennett transplant the garden flowers, had helped; now she put all her lore to use. Patiently she toiled with brittle sticks and pointed stones till the vine was replanted against the rude walls; emptied the dinner pail and trudged back and forth to the river several times for water, to wet the earth above the roots; and patted it down with muddy little hands. “Alfred the Grate was a good king. He had a lot of trubel in his rane. The Danes had come to Ingland and peeple did not no how to read and rite. He bilt some skools and men called munks showed the peeple how to read and rite the Danes were very crool they killed a lot of men and Alfred the Grate had to run away and hide in a slew. One day a woman where he horded asked him to turn some pancakes and King Alfred the Grate forgot to turn the pancakes and they were burnt and the woman boxed his ears and would not bord him no more. Alfred the Grate beet the Danes.” “She’s been stolen, mother! But I’ll find her—I know where to look. Don’t be afraid, mother, I will find her!” he repeated with grave emphasis, as he whipped out his knife and cut the dog loose. “Let us keep the wheat an’ roses.