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“What is Fuji Mamas?”,Having thus disposed of Jonah to her own evident satisfaction, and having as she considered, given much valuable instruction, Mrs. Wopp proceeded to question the children.,The ladder fairly creaked under the portly lady, and Miss Gordon felt relieved when the loft was reached in safety. Mrs. Bliggins made no remark, but smiled placidly. The three stood at the landing and listened to the childish entertainer.,“No, we won’t!” came a dozen voices.,“Anything else you can do better than a girl?” she jeered, good-naturedly.,Some of the voices were cracked and others badly out of tune. Moses Wopp’s voice, loudest of all, sounded like a foghorn and the windows fairly rattled in their frames. Nell motioned him to her desk. She thought by occupying his attention elsewhere the music lesson might proceed with more melody and less noise. Moses had developed his stentorian tones at home, by the lusty singing of Hallelujah hymns under the strict supervision of his mother.,“P’raps I’ll hinder more than help,” Howard answered, grasping Mrs. Wopp’s outstretched hand and looking questioningly at Nell.,“Well I’m not going to stay an’ play kid games,” Jimmy retorted loftily, and turned away.,That ardent daughter of Jubal sighed, not for the encroachment on her Sunday afternoon leisure hour, but because she had found out the lesson was to be on Jonah and the whale. She had always been partial to the story of the ravens feeding Elijah and to the parable of the Prodigal Son. She felt that her temperament inclined her most to stories where hospitality and mouthwatering descriptions of hunger appeased provided the dramatic interest. Well she knew that the Tishbite and the erring son who returned to the feast of fatted calf would have received full justice at her hands. As for Jonah, and the whale with the inordinate oesophagus, she would do her best.,Everything at the dinner table was in keeping to Betty’s eyes, from the translucent china cups to the dainty blown bubbles of confection served with ice-cream; all so fragile that even one of her small brown fingers might crush them. She laughed as she thought of the annihilating effect, should Moses appear. The ices and the angel cake and the concocted kisses of whiteof-egg confirmed in her mind the suspicion that her wonderful holiday was a dream. “So your name is Betty Wopp?”,“Well, he ain’t dead; he’s alive and bully, with a wad that bulges. I’m going to take you to him.”,“Ain’t she her own aunt?” hazarded Mr. Wopp, abstractedly thrusting his hammer into his boot top and scratching his bald head with a pair of pincers..
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