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“Peter Stolway, what is a whale?” “That’s Flash; he always works for his breakfast,” Billy pompously approved. Through the Stygian darkness of the loft loomed the figure of Mrs. Wopp, a white apron of huge dimensions indicating her presence. She made as though to descend the ladder..

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To-day she was happy. It had fallen to her to general this great feast that Billy’s mates had planned for the celebration of his birthday. All had contributed. Not only the girls had cooked—Jean had baked a big cake, Jackson had made the candy, and Jimmy and George had sneaked up from the “Front,” and set up the long table in the arbor. “Come here Betty, till I clean yer face. Where is that boy Moses? I know he had a hand in this. Drat him anyhow,” said the incensed Mrs. Wopp. By the time the deep apple-pie was brought in, raised in the centre by a cup, he had become facetious, and turning a mirthful countenance to Nell, he whispered audibly, “Isn’t it just like Fuji Yama?” Before Nell could answer, Betty broke in. “Hold your grouch, Sour,” Harold expostulated..