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“Say, it’s a donation party, isn’t it?” Billy did not see Harold wink at the twins, but picked up his mower and started across the lawn at a trot. Mr. Wopp, goaded to desperation, breathed audibly his opinion regarding pipe-fitting. Diogenes in one of his periodical excursions from his tub would have been glad to category that remark as an honest man’s attitude, at least toward certain jobs. “Yes, Mr. Brown,” he answered, keeping his face from sight..
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Several others were summoned and returned with remarkable reports. At last two high-pitched little voices called in concert down the[160] stair: “The Royal Seeress will rend the veil of futurity for William Bennett.” Mr. Wopp looked up in approval and brandished a formidable looking piece of fat meat, precariously poised on one prong of his fork and in his efforts to lose none of its dripping flavor, described an uncertain spiral in the air. Peter Stolway carried a large paper bag, and as the carrots fell with resounding thuds into the bin, they seemed like inebriated question marks, so ungainly and irregular were their shapes. One giddy carrot teetered on the edge as though about to entertain the onlookers by an acrobatic performance. Watchful Mrs. Bennett was not far away. She stopped the boy’s noise, and cuddled the bereft one once more. “What is it, child? You are to be brave, you know.”.
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