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“You never give my cats a chance,” Billy complained.,Mrs. Wopp, after ascertaining that the little boy had received no bodily injury, stood mopping her heated face with the half-mended sock. She ceased operations to survey Betty more carefully.,“That boy’ll sartinly spill the tea,” prophecied Mrs. Wopp, with laughing pessimism.,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.,THE girls worked hard to bower the interior of the Lodge with evergreen; to spread and hang the rugs they had brought; but before their task was finished distant whistles warned Jean. She took Bouncer’s face between her hands and charged him with May Nell’s protection as if he were human. And Bouncer wagged his tail, and in a short, sharp bark pledged himself as if he were human.,but not the strong log house where——” He hesitated, and May Nell quoted on glibly,,Wait till the clouds roll by,,This was a poser for Mrs. Wopp, who was obliged to admit that her knowledge of biblical genealogy did not embrace the immediate relatives of Jonah.,As many of the hens and chickens as could be persuaded were ushered into the yard to add to the numerical strength of the menagerie.,Mrs. Bennett put down the pan of batter-cake dough and gave him his good-morning kiss. His head was level with hers. “Thank you, my big boy. Mother will soon have a man to look to. Go in and get your breakfast; you must be nearly famished.”,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.,“Did you see the fine bin of carrots, Mar?” inquired Betty..