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By this time Betty was getting hoarse and instructed her perspiring assistant what next to shout and the most fetching modulations of voice to use. The change in program was bellowed in Moses’ raucous voice, “An orstrich here, only fifty cents to see a live trained orstrich!” A huge swallow and he continued, “Brought from Carliforny and trained by the famousest lady Betty Wopp.” After further instructions he went on, “This orstrich is named Job Wopp. He kin lay the largest aig in the world, kin run faster than any horse, could strike you dead with the hoof of his clawr.” Further whispering on the part of Betty and the address concluded, “Yet, ladies and gents, he is as gentle as a spring chicking.”,“Now Mis’ Stephens, call the boys,” requested Mrs. Wopp who was the busiest of the group.,“Won’t you dive Elmo some wed ones, too?” he pleaded.,The sunbeam somehow got into the internal decorations of Nancy and filtered out through her eyes. Their amber depths seemed to have turned into liquid gold.,Betty had a conviction, though an unspoken one, that Moses was the primary cause of Job’s infirmity. The slowest of a large family of striped fluffy turkeys to emerge from the shell, he had been assisted in his efforts by the impatient Moses. Betty felt sure that the clumsy fingers of the boy had ruined the little turkey’s eye. The accusation, however, was too dreadful to be put into words.,“Sit near the front so you can give me inspiration, Miss Gordon,” the musician said in an undertone as he stood hat in hand ready to hurry off for the first show.,“Moses!” called husband and wife, simultaneously. Mrs. Wopp’s voice spanned an interval of about a dozen semi-tones, and as it always grew in volume in direct ratio to the emergency of the duty to be imposed, the last syllable of her son’s name fell on that wretched boy’s ear like a clap of thunder. Mr. Wopp’s accents remained on nearly all occasions at the same even degree of meekness. Nature had not given him the temperament to indulge in crescendos or double fortes.,St. Elmo’s face brightened with intelligence. He broke into the story to give a graphic account of how a little yellow chicken of his sister’s had got “dwownded” in the pig-trough.,In front of the stone steps that led up to the barred door he hesitated; but the dog raced round to the rear. Instantly Billy followed.,To the melody of the shining bells, Betty dropped off to sleep.,“By heck!” he thundered.,“Is theh faywies wound heah, Betty? Can they see us?” inquired the little boy in awe-struck tones..