“Betty’s not goin’ to no kingdom come yet,” assured Mrs. Wopp, her optimism rising like a star of the first magnitude to lighten the darkness of her son’s midnight sky.,
“‘Mosey’? Does that mean ‘little Moses’?”,
“Why not arsk Geordie Hodgekiss. He’s sich a grand feller fer helpin’ at dances, an’ his voice ’ud most wake the dead. I feel shore he’d hev the good o’ the quilt at heart.”,
As many of the hens and chickens as could be persuaded were ushered into the yard to add to the numerical strength of the menagerie.
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But just before they were to enter the park Bouncer had his innings. A rabbit, startled, sprang from under the roadside bushes and ran down the street toward the open country. Bouncer’s tail went up. He dashed out of line, overturned the Polar Bear’s cage, and was off after his quarry, barking wildly, with the fast disrupting cage dangling at his heels. The Polar Bear, liberated, flew home like a streak of white light. The trained dogs broke from their struggling boy leaders, carrying with them gleaming bits of red paper uniform.,
“Wot fer? You girls is alius thinkin’ o’ money.” Moses clinked the nickels in his pocket with the air of a Vanderfeller. Betty’s voice became wheedling.,
Moses’ teeth chattered. It was not cold, but wash-day meant to the unhappy boy a dismal round of duties.,
Before they turned into Main Street, however, the procession was in fair alignment, and the solemnity of the moment hushed all chatter. Billy’s most personal disappointment was Bouncer, who, unhappy because he could not caper in freedom at Billy’s heels, let his lovely, bushy tail, that usually waved above his back in a graceful curve, hang limp and dusty between his legs; while from drooping head and sad eyes, he looked reproachfully at Billy every time the latter ran past.
“Well, I’ll be blowed, gosh! Mar’d larf to hear you tarlk. You’ll darn my socks, two bits or no two bits, ef Mar says.”
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Betty, orphaned at the age of six, had been adopted by the kind-hearted Mrs. Wopp. The child found her chief joy in life, outside of Jethro, Nancy and Job, in a flower-bed. A small plot of ground had been allotted her for her own use, and there every spring for the last four years her precious flowers had bloomed and had filled her eyes with brightness and her soul with gladness. Morning-glories and nasturtiums were the surest to bloom. They climbed the strings so gracefully and turned the old weather-beaten fence where they grew into a tapestry of gorgeous dyes.
erzcl-Xu,
Bingbing-Li
“No, no! Don’t, mother! I’ll run away! I’ll—” He groaned and left his sentence unfinished.
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>“Can he mean ‘prodigy,’ do you think, May Nell?” Edith’s eyes were mischievous.
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