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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. “O Billy, the poor rabbit will surely be caught; and you know the stag hid in ‘Trosach’s wildest nook.’” “Some o’ the men was sorft-hearted an’ agin Hingin’ Joner overboard, so they rowed reel hard to git to land.”.
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Conrad
“Mose, hoi’ this benighted idjit of a jint till I drive a nail in the wall to wire it up,” called Mr. Wopp, thrusting a nail between his teeth and turning his back on his wife. Awakened to the fact of her son’s existence and perhaps as an antidote to her unusual display of sentiment, Mrs. Wopp spoke rather sharply. “Moses, time you an’ Betty was in bed. You won’t want to git up in the mornin’ an’ milk the cows.” Later left alone in the lower part of the house she stood arms akimbo in the middle of the kitchen gazing at the door through which Nell Gordon had just departed. Shaking her head she said mysteriously, “I kalkerlate as how things is a-settin’ in that way.” “No, my son.” The answer was more sincere than a few weeks before she could have believed possible. The coming of the child had taken from her life many hours of association with Billy, sweet as only mothers know; yet May Nell’s influence had softened and refined Billy, enlarged his vision. “Did the little kids take it hard?”.
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