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‘The antlered monarch of the waste,Edith worked very hard. She called her operetta “The Triumph of Flora.” The words were her own, written hurriedly and set to familiar though classic airs. Yet many of the daintiest, most tripping melodies she wrote herself. The sorrows of humanity had winged her brain and dipped her pen in harmonies, that she might assuage them.,“Common?” Billy retorted, “they can’t be common. They have to have power more’n anybody. And snake charmers ’most always are Egyptian Princesses, or royalty of some kind,” he added hastily, lest exact Bess should call on him for a genealogy of his princesses.,For a horror-stricken moment no one spoke. Even the dumb creatures were still; and Buzz, thinking it all for his benefit, watched open-mouthed for the next act in the play.,Involved and intricate variations of “Holy smoke!” made the air sulphureous as a swaying piece of wire caught his shoulder and tore a large gash in his shirt.,“Kinder rocky.”,A pretty little figger,,“No; but I stop here sometimes. Are you afraid of ghosts?”,“The fleetin’ of youth is most sartin,” answered his wife, coining this epigram on the shortness of life’s spring-time, and sighing as she spoke. The good lady herself was looking through a stereoscope at some views and finding one of Niagara Falls she endeavored to cheer her despondent husband.,“Put a nose an’ eyes over his own planner an’ you’d think there’s the man hisself,” flung back Mrs. Wopp.,Here Mrs. Wopp related for the hundredth time the account of the ketchup disaster.,“I’ve watched, and called to him from the inside; but he only stands and mews. Did you ever see him climb up and open the screen?”.