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“Wartch yer team Moses,” commanded Mrs. Wopp from the back seat of the democrat. He returned his notes to his pocket with the assurance of one whose unreliable memory has been fortified and rendered infallible. Nevertheless the voluminous folds of Eliza Wopp’s cotton nightgown fluttered all night under the starry heavens. “Wharfmaster, ahoy!” Billy hailed, as they came near the water’s edge. “Is all ship-shape?”.

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“Cleanin’ up’s next, Mose. Take my device an’ shoo away them hens an’ chickings. Mar’ll be home soon.” “I see two rigs comin’,” announced Mrs. Wopp, suddenly. From where she sat she could view through the window a considerable portion of the trail. “The men’ll soon orl be here, so s’posin’ we roll up the quilt. Ef everybody’s back’s achin’ like mine they’ll be glad to quit.” “Dear Billy,” it read; “Shifty seen the fight. He says it was something fierce. He says you looked like a mad bull. He was hiding behind the fence. He says he bet on me; but he was glad he didn’t bet with nobody, because you whipped. Shifty’s doing some of my written work—I’m telling him how, of course. And I’m studying right smart. Say, Bill, I don’t lay no grudge. My arm’s getting on fine. Moses was whistling a dismal discordant air in the backyard when the voice of his mother smote his ears..