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“A new kind of hen,” retorted Moses.,“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?”,“Mrs. Bennett, you must unpack it alone, mamma said.”,He had hardly recovered from his laugh when two little girls appeared at the gateway. “There’s Twinnies! Come in, Kiddies, and see my new sister,” he called, as they hesitated.,As Mrs. Wopp adjusted her bonnet before leaving the house, she gave minute instructions to Mr. Wopp.,St. Elmo’s face brightened with intelligence. He broke into the story to give a graphic account of how a little yellow chicken of his sister’s had got “dwownded” in the pig-trough.,“Golly! They’re working all night. I—ought to—help—to-morrow. I—” He slept again with his good resolution half made.,“No; will you tell me?”,In the meantime Mr. Wopp sitting precariously on the edge of the sofa was examining for at least the two-hundredth time the red plush album which contained the records of the Wopp family, past and present, in picture form. He looked long and earnestly at a tin-type representing a plump, velvet-coated, mop-haired boy of twelve. He sighed deeply.,Another sound in a somewhat higher key was heard. Moses had simply modulated in his domestic symphony of labor from a major task to a minor one. As a change and refreshing recreation, Moses was allowed to turn the small wheat-mill. Ninety soul-stirring turns it required to empty the hopper once, and he must turn out enough flour for a batch of bread. His youthful soul was in revolt at such servitude. He had no sympathy to squander on the children of Israel in bondage vile. Making bricks for Pharoah was infantile amusement compared to his labor.,“Poor little chaps! They’ve been talking circus for a month.”,“An orful good-natured tied-in-at-the-waist critter, aint it?” commented Moses..