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Behind the two women trotted a chubby baby. “I see Billy boat,” he cried, shrilly, stumbled, fell, scrambled up again, and repeated his refrain. “Don’t care a doughnut,” answered Moses defiantly, “I’d ruther turn the washin’ machine any day than stand like a goose spellin’ words any arss can spell.” “He ran up and touched noses with Tom like a Feegee Islander,—are they the people that touch noses for ‘How do you do?’”.

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One tall, ambitious girl contributed a unique float called, “Lot’s Wife Looking Backward.” She had not been certain of the color for the desert, consequently had made the whole thing, including the wagon, the boys, and herself snowy white. She had copied an old Bible picture, carrying out the idea with sheets, and such liberal doses of flour, that only a heavy dew was needed to turn the float to dough instead of salt. However, the sun shone, and the addition of diamond dust over all made a very realistic picture that Billy praised heartily. “If you wish to do so.” Diligently as Betty had tended this little garden, it was considered to be a family possession, the child’s own particular treasures lying beyond its fragrant border. Her cherished morning-glories and climbing nasturtiums found a welcome support in the old wooden fence. “How in the name of orl the aporstles did that hen git in there?” questioned Mrs. Wopp..