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Mrs. Wopp viewed with misgiving the ornate writing not yet erased from the previous lesson. She feared her own handwriting would suffer by comparison. “There isn’t any Maskey’s any more,” May Nell mourned; “just ashes and old irons where used to be such oceans of goodies in such beautiful boxes and dishes.” “Oh Mosey,” cried Betty at the breakfast table, being first on the scene to arrange her flowers, “we’ll hev a spellin’ match to-day I bet.”.
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Moses, his feelings by this time wrought to a state of down-right rebellion, grasped a pail in either hand and sought the peaceful atmosphere of the river. CHAPTER V THE FAIR ELLEN At this mendacious statement Mrs. Wopp turned on her offspring a withering glance. But a second idea came that made him fidget about the room, lift his bandage and watch the children on their way to school. His record for attendance for the year had so far been perfect. He knew that he owed it partly to his mother’s tireless watch of the clock, and wondered why he had not realized this before. Now it was to be broken; she would be as sorry as he could be; and it would have counted well toward the prize. He tried to calculate how many days he could be absent and still have left some chance of it. The work was all reviewing, he almost knew it, anyway. If he only had his books,—but no, they wouldn’t let him use his eyes..
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