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“I’ll make a note of that, Lize.” “This is a lyre, very old,” said Mr. Crump, handling an ancient instrument tenderly. Moses looked up suddenly, he hoped nothing he had said called forth the remark. CHAPTER XVII.—A SAMPLE OF EBENEZER WOPP’S IRE..

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“Don’t you remember the first day I went to school, he took me between his knees,—I was a little kid then,—and said, ‘Billy, if I[133] know that you ever jump on a boy first to fight him, I’ll lick you. And if another boy jumps on you first, and you don’t fight back, no matter how big he is, I’ll lick you then.’” Balancing her voice on a very high note she popped her head through the dining-room door to speak to her husband. He was seated at the table reading “The Family Herald.” His straggling grey locks were disordered with his mental effort and formed a frieze of irregular design on his shining forehead. Mrs. Wopp’s voice, in a moment, was safe on terra firma. “A dose of senner tea’ll fix that, my boy,” was Mrs. Wopp’s cheerful rejoinder. “Yes, that’s true,” May Nell replied, with conviction. “And Queen will be Lady Margaret; and you are Malcolm Graeme; and who is Fitz-James?”.