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“Moses!” called husband and wife, simultaneously. Mrs. Wopp’s voice spanned an interval of about a dozen semi-tones, and as it always grew in volume in direct ratio to the emergency of the duty to be imposed, the last syllable of her son’s name fell on that wretched boy’s ear like a clap of thunder. Mr. Wopp’s accents remained on nearly all occasions at the same even degree of meekness. Nature had not given him the temperament to indulge in crescendos or double fortes. Ebenezer Wopp became the grateful recipient of a quire of paper for notes. Miss Gordon was enabled to add to the decorations of her bureau a celluloid pictureframe on which were painted vivid blue and pink forget-me-nots. Mrs. Wopp reckoned “to git great comfort fer her corns an’ bungions” in a pair of soft house-shoes. but not the strong log house where——” He hesitated, and May Nell quoted on glibly,.
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“My poor lamb, my little darling,” she said, speaking with difficulty, “There are so many lynxes in the woods, and he’s so afraid of them. If he meets one he’ll die of fright.” “It’s only a chop left from yesterday,” he excused on his return. Nothing loth to keep the distance between himself and Nell at a minimum, Howard Eliot entered with zest into the boy’s plans. Outside the spring warmth and fragrance enfolded the children as a mantle, opening their hearts to each other. Billy showed his flock of pigeons, his white chickens and the house where they roosted and brought forth their fluffy broods. Old Bouncer barked and capered about them; and the little girl tried to decide which cat was the prettiest, white Flash watching for gophers in the green alfalfa, or Sir Thomas Katzenstein, his yellow mate, basking in the sun. “He isn’t yellow like any other cat I ever saw; he’s shaded so beautifully.”.
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