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“Anyhow, Mar, that fust punkin pie Par got was a howlin’ success.”,

“Well, the lack of Buzz shall not damage your show; I’ll go,” Mrs. Lancaster yielded.,

Guinea pigs, pigeons, and other and larger live stock, normal or otherwise, masqueraded as marvellous creatures from foreign lands.,

What delightfully busy and secret evenings Betty spent in the kitchen with Mrs. Wopp helping and expostulating! What dismal sighs from Moses who, like the Marchioness, cooled his eye at the keyhole! His sighs penetrated through the said keyhole and almost softened the obdurate Betty; but, alas, his eavesdropping ended only in whetting the edge of his curiosity! What yelps from Jethro when Moses trod on his foot in headlong flight from the door as his mother approached! What copious notes written by Ebenezer Wopp on the whispering and conspiracies in the kitchen! And then again what sweeping up and burning of cardboard, what hunting through old newspapers and magazines, and what clicking of scissors while a small pair of jaws worked simultaneously! What gorgeous hues from the paint-box as Betty mixed her colors and painted innumerable pictures cut from the magazines! Animals, birds, flowers! Gay as color could make them! A veritable garden and zoo turned loose in the kitchen!

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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.”,

On Moses Wopp devolved the responsibility of driving the ladies of the household over the two miles of prairie lying between the Wopp ranch and that of Mrs. Mifsud. Betty, too, was going. The Ladies’ Aid did not meet every day, nor had it always on hand the alluring business of an autograph quilt, on which flourished in outlined boldness the name of every man, woman and child in the district and many out of it.,

Betty winced slightly as the chilly weapon touched her face, but recollecting the importance of the issue at stake she submitted tamely to be shorn. In a few moments Moses stepped back to contemplate the result of his drastic work. There was no denying that it had totally changed his little sister’s appearance. A queer expression on Moses’ face made Betty enquire anxiously, “What is it? Don’t I look orlright Moses?”,

St. Elmo Mifsud, his angelic face framed in silky curls, now became the prey to the machinations of Pete Solway, who had eluded the vigilant eye of Mrs. Wopp during her dramatic recital. A roar of pain escaped the child as a sharp tweak was applied to his curls. Recalled to matters entirely mundane, the teacher administered severe reproof.