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‘The antlered monarch of the waste “Golly! They’re working all night. I—ought to—help—to-morrow. I—” He slept again with his good resolution half made. Impressed with the importance of her task of instilling wisdom into the minds of her young listeners, Mrs. Wopp ignored this remark and continued the narrative into which she had already launched..

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Why, it was going to be fine to work! Why had she not known it before? Outside of the flower garden proper and between it and the vegetables, were several rows of gay sunflowers. Mr. Wopp approved of these mightily, because the seeds were “sich grand feed for the chickings.” Betty looked on these gaudy sentinels with sorrowing pity, because they had not the daintiness of the other flowers. When Betty returned from school in the afternoon, she beheld snowy billowing apparel on the clothes-line. Mrs. Wopp, being very thrifty in the matter of using up flour and sugar sacks for underwear, had a motley collection of garments suspended by wooden pegs. A night-shirt of Mr. Wopp’s bore the inscription “Three Roses” dimly outlined in pink, while on the southern portion of a pair of more intimate garments could be discerned, fading into palest blue. “Great Western Mills.” The wind was causing a riotous time among the cheerful array of reconstructed sacks, and as Betty ran down the path singing “Twenty froggies went to school,” a sugar sack sleeve of Moses’ shirt embraced a flour sack bosom of his father’s undergarment; and “Pure Cane Sugar“ saluted “Ogiveme’s Mills.” Betty cheerfully performed her task of bringing in the clothes saturated with wind and sunshine. She thought the sweetest smell in the world next to morning-glories and nasturtiums was the smell of clean clothes fresh from the line. She put back his tumbled hair, looked long into his eyes, realizing with a shock that she was looking up. Her little boy was gone..