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It was Mrs. Wopp’s voice. From her remarks one would gather that the rarest perfumes wafted on the winds invoked by Solomon could never seem so sweet to Woppian nostrils as the mingled odor of hay and freshly dug carrots. “Was it as bad as that?” She smiled, and smoothed back the thick, tumbled hair. “Do you live here?” she questioned with an irrepressible shudder..
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Conrad
When the party reached the house and St. Elmo had been received with every manifestation of joy, Mr. Wopp in one burst of eloquence explained how his boy Moses had found him. Moses, the hero of the hour, stood abashed before the encomiums of Mrs. Mifsud. He twirled his hat at a fearful rate on his doubled fist, standing awkwardly on one foot the while. “Not till evening; but there’s the lawn.” Her absorption hypnotized the others to wondering stillness. In a moment her attitude and intensity had transported them to the mysterious East, and put upon them the spell of ancient superstitions. “O, Dadsie,” was the reply, “this is recital afternoon, you know.”.
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