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“Please, Mith Wopp, the latht windthorm upthet our hen-houth.”,Mannel Rodd’s round face was very solemn as in two chubby fists he held out a small box containing a number of short knobby specimens.,Mrs. Newman and Nell waited after the show for the unique trio that had occupied the box but they were nowhere to be seen. Howard Eliot had whisked his companions off under a pretext of urgent business.,“No, it isn’t, sister! I’ve thought of a way out. Keep the kids straight here—I’ll be back in a minute.”,As the party, now restored to composure, left the garden, Mrs. Mifsud remarked with her usual aptness, “I occasionally experience premonitions, Mrs. Wopp, that St. Elmo will some day attain celebrity as a clairvoyant.”,“What’s the Golden Text, Norer?”,Betty picked him a small bouquet. She knew that in the child’s hot grasp the flowers would soon droop and she loved them so dearly that she grieved to see them wither and die. St. Elmo, however, was not satisfied.,Betty picked him a small bouquet. She knew that in the child’s hot grasp the flowers would soon droop and she loved them so dearly that she grieved to see them wither and die. St. Elmo, however, was not satisfied.,Mrs. Wopp was much too energetically engaged to enter into fuller argument. She busied herself preparing the tubs for rinsing, singing in a high tremolo, “Shall we gather at the river?”,Now the band came up, a troop of boys in gorgeous uniforms made of red calico and tinsel paper. A drum and fife kept tolerable time; but the wheezy harmonicas and paper-covered combs, the tin horns and clanging triangles, quite “covered” any tune the fife attempted. Yet what matter? It was a joyful noise; and even the horses kept step to the valiant drum.,“Oh, no! It’s too much. We only did what all—”,Moses capitalized his bulk to effectively fill the large chair into which he sank. He surveyed with approval the new trousers presented to him by Miss Gordon, and tried to blot from his mind the ignominy that had attended the wearing of the ill-fitting pair. Those discarded checked monstrosities languished under Moses’ bed in close consultation with a pair of decrepit and muddy shoes. It was so sweet to the boy to see signs of convalescence in Betty that he took great comfort in just gazing on her pale face with its wisps of fair hair across the forehead. He summed up his general attitude to life by whispering to himself, “I don’t give a doughnut fer orl the check pants in Alberta.”.