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Jimmy had the trick ponies and the trained dogs. Teaching them was the chief joy of his life. What if there were only two ponies, and their spots were painted on? And what if the children had seen all the tricks over and over again? They were good as new each time. Besides, the ponies’ one brand-new trick, when at the crack of a whip they stood on their hind feet in unison, was so effective that it frightened May Nell. She saw it first in the barn; and when their shod hoofs came down she thought they would crash right through the floor. Mrs. Wopp viewed with misgiving the ornate writing not yet erased from the previous lesson. She feared her own handwriting would suffer by comparison. “What yer whistlin’ so mournful like?” queried his mother, “makes me think of funerals an’ sich like; jist come in an’ help yer par with the stove-pipes, mebbe that’ll cheer you up.”.

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“Please, Mith Wopp, the latht windthorm upthet our hen-houth.” Mrs. Wopp was floored. She rapidly reflected that that which Mrs. Mifsud had heard might have been anything from the “buzzin’ of a skeeter to the tootin’ of an autermobyle.” “But I asked for her, mamma.” Billy’s voice lost its exuberance. His mother never had looked so tired, he thought for the second time that day. A hand shot up at this point in the lesson and a thin voice piped, “Please, Mis’ Wopp, I was to the Fair last year.”.