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“The fairies might git cross,” countered Betty. “Well, well, you don’t say!” Moses was not easily satisfied. His attitude was always that of one who has dined on an undersized shrimp while expecting a ten-course banquet..

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Directly the invalid’s querulous demand for the rancher was made, Moses started off to fetch him. “O mother, how can there be joy if life is all work and never any fun?” He took her hand and pressed it against his cheek. “You keep still, Betsey! I’m going to watch!” he exclaimed, as if some one had spoken. It had been Mrs. Wopp’s aim, to have the names for all the members of the household sanctified by biblical authority. She claimed to have had unnumbered admirers in her youth and had singled out her husband for his scriptural appellation. A store of names had been secretly acquired for use in the event of her marriage, but as in the course of years only one boy had come to add freckles and rotundity to the family circle, she was thankful that she had used at least three of the collection on the fortunate youth. Moses Habakuk Ezra Wopp, the exact counterpart of his mother, sat next to his father and eyed the plate of Betty, who was seated beside him, mentally calculating the amount of each succulent morsel she consumed. Since he was twice her size, he was entitled, he thought, to at least twice her share. On his own plate a lonely pickled onion floated in gravy..