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Meantime Jerusalem Crickets, escaped from Billy’s arm and eye, was sneaking about for prey; and a clinking sound from the pantry warned them that she had found it.,“Well, papa did. If he was alive he’d be giving it to me about now, good and plenty.”,“I am given to understand by the best fashion-plates, Mrs. Wopp, that the garment you term an ‘underwaist’ is now designated a casserole.”,“Geegustibus! You kids are doin’ a fine job,” Billy encouraged, as he walked by the line of little bending, sweating backs. “There never was a railroad built on the square like this. Contractors on time; men a-workin’ that’s got brains an’ ain’t afraid to use ’em. Jiminy crickets, it’s fine!”,It had been Mrs. Wopp’s aim, to have the names for all the members of the household sanctified by biblical authority. She claimed to have had unnumbered admirers in her youth and had singled out her husband for his scriptural appellation. A store of names had been secretly acquired for use in the event of her marriage, but as in the course of years only one boy had come to add freckles and rotundity to the family circle, she was thankful that she had used at least three of the collection on the fortunate youth. Moses Habakuk Ezra Wopp, the exact counterpart of his mother, sat next to his father and eyed the plate of Betty, who was seated beside him, mentally calculating the amount of each succulent morsel she consumed. Since he was twice her size, he was entitled, he thought, to at least twice her share. On his own plate a lonely pickled onion floated in gravy.,Mrs. Bennett leaned over him without speaking for a minute, but stroked his hair softly. “Remember, with One there is no ‘forever.’ As long as we live we have a chance to retrieve. Rest on that, my child. Now you must sleep.” She kissed him and was silent, for a drop glistened on his cheek she knew he would not wish her to notice.,Now a steamboat was on hand. At odd times for weeks, Billy, Harold, and one or two other boys, under secrecy of lock and key, had been slowly bringing to completion a wonderful structure.,“Them’s thum,” was the sophisticated answer.,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.,She stood at the end of the creaking wharf, and one little bare arm was lifted high. She held a small fruit jar filled with water and beet juice. It was awkward, but Billy had insisted on the fruit jar,—“So’s it will be sure to break; it’s the only kind of a bottle that always will break.”,Her disappointment over Moses’ parsimony led her now to see the urgent necessity of ideas, vital ideas, in fact, ideas that could cause silver to flow to her empty coffers, or in other words her missionary box.,“Golly! Wish’t I had time to stay an’ watch. But I won’t, Betsey; I’ll go right now.”.