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“By heck!” he thundered.,“Can you forgive me, Nell? This guiding star of Moses is our guiding star, too.” After a moment Howard continued, “I wish we could transplant this morning-glory into our garden, don’t you?”,“This here thing looks like a mule with his ribs druv in an’ stan’in’ on his haunches. What d’ye call it?”,“Come home to dinner with me, Mr. Zalhambra, you’ll p’raps find some folks there that will appreciate the dope you hand out.”,The chinking began in earnest. Moses stood, turning till each freckle on his ruddy face shone with honest sweat.,“But it isn’t ten o’clock.”,Still no St. Elmo. They proceeded a considerable distance down the creek.,Moses and Betty were left to mind house, the admonishings of Mrs. Wopp being seasoned with picturesque if carelessly applied texts. The envious might hurl hisses, but Moses and Betty were invulnerable to all such assaults upon their anticipations of the day’s freedom with its already planned joys.,“Did the little kids take it hard?”,A liberal application of shoe paste furnished the unfortunate victim with a startling pair of jet-black eyebrows, nearly an inch in depth. Appalled at what he saw, Moses drew from his pocket a grimy handkerchief. Dampening one corner of it in his mouth, the most expeditious thing to do under the circumstances, he carefully wiped around the outside of these funereal bands, reducing them slightly in size but also straightening their edges.,As many of the hens and chickens as could be persuaded were ushered into the yard to add to the numerical strength of the menagerie.,Mrs. Wopp was overcome with laughter at the bare memory of the picture her irate husband had presented..