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“I suppose you have a large farm, Mr. Wopp,” said Nell Gordon.,

The child reared without pets was delighted with the animal life about her; the cats, old Bouncer, the white chickens, and pigeons cooing in the loft.,

“My conscience! You can’t eat all—” May Nell stopped, conscious of an unkindness. But the boy only laughed; he was used to comments on his appetite.,

Nell looked toward the morning-glory garden and there she saw Betty kneeling in the moonlight. Jethro was sitting up on his hind legs beside the little figure, holding his paws before him. The moonlight fell on his penitential white body, on the stiff braids of the sorrowful and contrite Betty, and lighted up the bright yellow nasturtiums that filled the air with their pungent odor. The morning-glory leaves gleamed in the pure white light.

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“The p’licemen do hev a fine look,” agreed Mrs. Wopp. “Fine feathers causes fine birds. Sometimes when the feathers is taken orff there aint nothin’ much left. That Plymouth Rock hen I plucked yesterday looked good walkin’ round the yard, but, Lan’ Sakes! when I’d plucked her she was nothin’ but skin an’ bones.” The good lady had no desire to underrate that useful body of men, the guardians of the law, but she considered it wise to exercise a constantly restraining influence on the vanities of youth.,

On such visits Mrs. Wopp enjoyed herself hugely. Her volubility was overpowering; as Mrs. Mifsud had been known to remark, “Not even a comma was there to clutch at to make good ones escape.” The faster her needle flew the faster raced her tongue. In view of the impending visit Mrs. Mifsud had surreptitiously stuffed one ear with cotton batting so that in the event of an extremely sanguinary onslaught, so to speak, at least one rampart of defence could be instantaneously thrown up. Ebenezer Wopp unlike his wife was expecting nothing but an afternoon of self-effacement though prepared to secretly admire to the full Mrs. Wopp’s sprightly conversation.,

Harold turned and looked to where May Nell stood with the twins, sorting her flowers. “Isn’t she a daisy, though? Little—why, she’s only a baby.”,

Moses and Betty, hearing what promised to add spice to their evening, quickly entered the room. Mrs. Wopp who always had to know the joke, conspired at once to get rid of the youngsters.