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The first act of the unwilling recruit was to bring into the house a coal-scuttle and large shovel, clanking them ominously as he walked.,

What more might he do to hasten the Saturday work? He could not chop the kindling or fill the wood boxes. The weeding! It was behind. Both mother and sister had reminded him repeatedly, but he had forgotten. Only yesterday his sister had made tidy the flower beds that flanked the house; but the melons, the vegetables,—they were not done, and that would make no noise.,

She opened the lunch pail and gave him a scrap from it; ate a sandwich herself; and in a moment started off to find the Idean vine. Nothing appeared that fitted her mind’s picture of that creeper; but she found a great sheet of delicate wild clematis, covering the tangled roots of a fallen oak with its pale green tendrils. The earth was soft, the roots easily lifted; and shortly she had masses of it uprooted and trailing after her to the Lodge.,

George nudged Jimmy. “Hit again, Sour. Come on.” The two boys went out, mysteriously embarrassed.

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The Prettymans’ white cow was ingeniously shaped and caparisoned to represent “India’s Sacred White Elephant”; and Jackson was the Hindoo leader. This exhibit caused much controversy. The attendant should ride on the neck of the elephant, all agreed to that; but the cow objected; so they compromised by having Jackson walk. The matter of costume for Jackson was not so easily settled, as the differing pictures of sacred elephants presented a variation in the attendants’ garb. May Nell,—who was to be the “Fair Princess of Bombay,”—as soon as she could get a hearing, ended the dispute amicably by suggesting that Jackson be allowed his choice in the matter of dress, an alternative that permitted each disputant to withdraw from the argument with honor.,

All was now ready for firing. “She” was to be run by oil. They took her out through the double doors, both swung wide for the first time in many weeks. It was all the boys could do to carry the heavy thing, though they went quite steadily across the vegetable garden, not without some damage to spring lettuce and summer corn, however; but on the steep, uneven slope below, the Fair Ellen came almost to grief.,

Mrs. Bliggins’ narrative came to an end. Though its application to the misfortune which dominated the minds of the little gathering in Mrs. Mifsud’s kitchen was somewhat obscure, it served to cause a momentary interest. Experiences so unusual and so complicated as those of Mr. Augustus Snoop were bound to be diverting.,

“Maria, where is St. Elmo?” asked Mrs. Mifsud, as with flushed face she basted some fowls in the oven.