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“When I heerd Par swear I run inter the kitchen, an’ there he stood with suthin red orl down his face an’ neck. A ketchup bottle on the shelf above had bust over him an’ I thort it was blood. ‘Ebenezer Wopp,’ I says, ‘whose been tryin’ to arssarssinate yer?’ All he said was ‘By Heck,’ but a forty-horse power gun couldn’t of roared through the kitchen louder ’n them words.”,The two steeds attached to the car of the Goddess of Liberty, also deserted their task, and marked their path with bright bits of paper and bunting.,Warwick Bro’s & Rutter, Limited, Printers and Bookbinders, Toronto, Canada.,“Here, you poor darling, take mine! And don’t be afraid—you’ll find your mother before long.” Edith’s words were brave, but her own eyes were moist.,“You can search me.” Billy was about to remark further, when a commotion arose among the school children just passing on their way home.,Ebenezer Wopp was the last silent word in patient masculinity, but his face, becoming darker with his work, would lead an onlooker to believe that sinister thoughts were struggling to find expression.,“Did you forget their breakfast, Billy?” the child questioned earnestly.,In the house, meanwhile, affairs were proceeding quite as happily as those out of doors. The hostess fluctuated between the parlor and kitchen. She was preparing a repast not only for the workers present, but also for the men-folk who would presently arrive to take them to their respective homes. Excused from quilting, she nevertheless managed to spend considerable time with her guests. Mrs. Mifsud was a lady who aspired to literary attainments. She had read “Beulah,” “Vashti,” “Lucile,” “St. Elmo” and many other books of like calibre. She felt that her talents were practically wasted, living in what she termed a desert, yet she strove, when occasion offered, by elegance of deportment and conversation to enhance her gifts. She often spoke tenderly of the late Mr. Mifsud who, in spite of the fact that his face had been adorned with bristling side-whiskers of an undeniable red, had shown in other ways some signs of intelligence and feeling. He had been carried off by the shingles. According to Mrs. Mifsud’s account, her deeply-lamented spouse had considered the tall attenuated form of his wife “willowy,” her long thin black hair “a crown of glory,” her worn narrow countenance with its sharp nose and coal-black eyes, “seraphic.”,St. Elmo cast about in his mind for some plausible explanation of his recent panic. It would never do to inform the world that he had been afraid of a mere turkey.,“Are your going to church?” she asked, disappointment drawing her lips to a tremulous curve.,This small boy seemed to accept the limitations of his lot with a Micawber-like philosophy. Indeed it may easily have escaped his youthful notice, that there were persons in the world who did not have to spend a day in bed while their clothing was being washed. To Mannel a second set of garments, even of so simple a character as those he constantly wore, would have seemed untold wealth.,Moses’ opinion, repressed, however, in his bursting bosom, was of a like complexion, only much more vivid. He was hesitating between the liquid verge of tears and the lambent verge of profane utterance..