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Moses, his feelings by this time wrought to a state of down-right rebellion, grasped a pail in either hand and sought the peaceful atmosphere of the river.,

As Mrs. Wopp adjusted her bonnet before leaving the house, she gave minute instructions to Mr. Wopp.,

“Sure! Take care of the truck, will you?” He dropped his burdens to Jean’s willing hands, and darted forward.,

He knew it was he and his friends who were never denied “the run of the house,” that brought in most of the gray film that settled so quickly on the dark floors; it was not fair to leave this back-aching task to his mother. He hustled out the rugs, found dusting cloth, wax, and rubber, and set vigorously at it, working so fast that he was nearly finished when she returned to the room.

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The chinking began in earnest. Moses stood, turning till each freckle on his ruddy face shone with honest sweat.,

In the house, meanwhile, affairs were proceeding quite as happily as those out of doors. The hostess fluctuated between the parlor and kitchen. She was preparing a repast not only for the workers present, but also for the men-folk who would presently arrive to take them to their respective homes. Excused from quilting, she nevertheless managed to spend considerable time with her guests. Mrs. Mifsud was a lady who aspired to literary attainments. She had read “Beulah,” “Vashti,” “Lucile,” “St. Elmo” and many other books of like calibre. She felt that her talents were practically wasted, living in what she termed a desert, yet she strove, when occasion offered, by elegance of deportment and conversation to enhance her gifts. She often spoke tenderly of the late Mr. Mifsud who, in spite of the fact that his face had been adorned with bristling side-whiskers of an undeniable red, had shown in other ways some signs of intelligence and feeling. He had been carried off by the shingles. According to Mrs. Mifsud’s account, her deeply-lamented spouse had considered the tall attenuated form of his wife “willowy,” her long thin black hair “a crown of glory,” her worn narrow countenance with its sharp nose and coal-black eyes, “seraphic.”,

Again he laughed, and patted May Nell roughly but not unkindly. “I do; but there’s preliminaries before I get you two together. Sabe?”,

“Yes, I can see that the wind, the shaking tower, the creaking mill, would bring such dreams,” his mother said. “Hear the wind howl now!”