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“O mother, how can there be joy if life is all work and never any fun?” He took her hand and pressed it against his cheek.,“Sure! Take care of the truck, will you?” He dropped his burdens to Jean’s willing hands, and darted forward.,Mrs. Wopp viewed with misgiving the ornate writing not yet erased from the previous lesson. She feared her own handwriting would suffer by comparison.,Her anxiety somewhat allayed for the moment, Mrs. Mifsud roused herself for the entertainment of her guests.,The struggle was short. When Jimmy resisted no longer, but, after a fall against the fence with his arm doubled under and back, did not try to rise, Billy came to his senses. He cleared the dust from his eyes a little and turned to see why Jimmy didn’t speak. He lay with closed eyes, motionless!,The basket piled high with snowy linen and cotton seemed almost to overflow the brim. Betty pressed the clothes down with her brown hands, while the complaining boy enlarged on the sordid details of that trying wash-day and on the manner in which his mother had teased him. The child’s sense of humor outbalanced even her sympathy and a peal of laughter rang out. Her laugh was a long delicious trill, as though a bird had dropped from the clouds singing still with the sunrise tangled in its notes. Moses paused long enough for a procession of commas and semicolons to pass by. Then seeing his disappointment in her apparent lack of sympathy, Betty hastened to console him.,“Was it as bad as that?” She smiled, and smoothed back the thick, tumbled hair.,The magic name won the day. Bess was ever dreaming of the land of mystery, whose pictured daughters of old she resembled; and the chance to masquerade in its atmosphere lured her.,The story had fairly begun when Mrs. Wopp, Nell Gordon and Mrs. Bliggins could be heard coming up the ladder.,The audience made an impetuous dash to the scene of the fatality and as he stooped over the dripping yellow-frocked figure a jolt of even greater proportions upset the bucket entirely; a deluge of the unsavory mixture almost knocked off his knightly helmet and trickled from its rusty edges till he looked like a very rotund and rakish Don Quixote.,“O Billy, it hurts the ears of my mind to hear you say those vulgar words.” May Nell, playing “man” for the first time in her life, looked up from the “rod of grade” that she was piling deftly with a broken shingle. The color from sun and exercise added much to her beauty. She was neither blowsy nor smudged like the other children, and her lawn frock was as spotless as in the morning.,Thus adjured by his father the elocutionist began in a loud dramatic voice:.