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CHAPTER IX.—THE VAUDEVILLE SHOW. “Why doesn’t your mama have a man to take care of the grounds?” she questioned after she had told him something of her parents and home. The first sign of return to health was indicated by a slight querulousness that invalids seem to claim as their prerogative. The convalescent wanted books and pictures, her discarded favorite, Hannah, stiff with long neglect, and her pets individually and collectively. Then having run the gamut of dumb playmates, she called for her beloved friends..
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“Doh, re, mi, fah, soh, la, ti, doh,” sang the children in faint uncertain tones. Maria, accompanied by Betty, repaired to the spot where they had left the little boy. He was not there. In vain they shouted and called his name. The whole garden had been fenced in as a precaution against the encroachment of predatory animals. Molly, the inquisitive black cow, or Josh and Jake, who had no proper sense of the fitness of things, would have liked nothing better than to sample Mrs. Wopp’s prize turnips and scanty crop of Indian corn, and to trample into the soft earth whatever did not suit their dainty palates. “Do you need it right away?” Billy stood his wheel against the steps and flung his books on the porch table..
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