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Guinea pigs, pigeons, and other and larger live stock, normal or otherwise, masqueraded as marvellous creatures from foreign lands.,Mrs. Wopp was too busy to eat breakfast in the orthodox fashion. She could be heard in the kitchen preparing for the trying ordeal of wash-day. Out in the yard the head of the house was busy feeding the fowl.,“Git in there, an’ no nonsense,” ordered Moses, who was chafing at the delay.,“An orful good-natured tied-in-at-the-waist critter, aint it?” commented Moses.,The best of all was a letter from Jimmy, scrawled with his left hand.,“Are—are you hurt bad, Jimmy?” came in a quaking voice.,After several rounds the mouse, at last seeing the open door, darted through it to freedom. Jethro a short distance behind assayed to follow; but taking a short cut under the back seat on which huddled the Mifsud family he unexpectedly encountered his ancient enemy Snappy the Mifsud’s collie. Snappy, who had been roused from his slumbers under the buckboard by the commotion in the church, had crept in unnoticed and had been an interested spectator of the proceedings. Jethro’s always superabundant energies were now turned in a new direction. Snarls and snaps and the fiercest growls testified to the bitterness of the feud.,“They smell like the sunbeams was sprinklin’ them with scent,” she declared as she and Moses brought the last basketful into the house. Mrs. Wopp’s nightgown of ample proportions was left out a little longer being still somewhat damp.,It was May Nell who first broke the silence. She had been thinking. “It isn’t so very bad to have to work, is it? Your mama looks happier than my mama does. She said she’d rather wear calico and work ever so hard, and have papa at home, than be the richest, richest without him. She cries a lot—my mama does. And now—she’s crying—for me.” The last word was a sob.,The expression on the childish countenance became even more complex and a close observer could have seen that all was not going to be well with Moses Wopp for the next few days, and that “he’d be sorry.”,The last act exhausted the possibilities of the theatre in light effects and sylvan scenery; and the curtain rose on a gorgeous scene. But oh, horror! In the middle of the stage the scene-shifters had left the ugly truck that moved Storm King’s reservoir of ice and snow. When used in previous acts, bed and wheels had been hidden by moss, the tank had been covered by his mantle, and the entire mechanism, moving as he moved, had seemed a part of himself. Now its secret was disclosed and it was ridiculous.,“We’re seven,” came the echo..