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A certain wide lawn, starred with white clover and daisies came unwelcome to his mind. He ought that moment to be chopping off clover tops. St. Elmo’s face brightened with intelligence. He broke into the story to give a graphic account of how a little yellow chicken of his sister’s had got “dwownded” in the pig-trough. “Orl right, you rascalashus coaxer, an’ go make some tea an’ fetch some crackers an’ cheese an’ we’ll orl hev a bite.”.

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“No; but I stop here sometimes. Are you afraid of ghosts?” Job’s feathers that to Betty’s eyes had taken on the glory of ostrich plumes, drooped disconsolately, while Moses denounced in fluent language the stupidity of the fowl that had caused the unfortunate episode. He declared loudly that he would like to wring the aggressive portions of those feathered culprits. The group stood for a moment, a miniature Vesuvius erupting lava and ashes, while Moses wrung the offending liquid from Betty’s yellow drape and the magenta antimacassar. His sense of the ludicrous however overcame his wrath, “My Eye Betty!” he cried, “I near kerlapse every time I draw up my curtings on Job.” “Well, well, you don’t say!” [42]Mrs. Bennett did not know, as her son did, that the retort touched a sore fact. Jimmy’s eyes darkened with the look that had earned for him the name of “Sour.” Yet in spite of this he had a fine, strong face..