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Mrs. Wopp was an incurable optimist, although the citadel of her optimism was being assailed. Turning her wrathful gaze from Moses, her eye lighted on the soiled pink hat and antimacassar still worn by Job. She burst into a hearty laugh and turned to Betty.,

The bottle went crash, and a furious yell informed the neighborhood that the Gang was “up to some new deviltry.”,

In the meantime, affairs outside were in a more lethargic condition. The Wopp’s steady-going brown team Josh and Jake tied to a wheel of the democrat stood enjoying a small pile of hay on the ground before them. Beneath the democrat sat Jethro watching with eager gaze for the reappearance of his friends. Occasionally he administered chastisement to an impertinent fly which after buzzing around in a tantalizing manner ventured to settle on his nose or ear. After an hour of intense boredom he rose, stretched himself, yawned; then began to walk sedately towards the church. He intended to find out what was going on anyway. He had been told to watch the democrat; but there were limits to even canine patience. He reached the church door just in time to see a small, badly-frightened mouse running madly up the aisle. Quick as a flash he gave chase, uttering short, excited yelps as he ran. The mouse redoubled its speed. So did Jethro. Round and round the church they raced. In his excitement and mad haste Jethro, intent only on his immediate task, ran violently against Mr. Bliggins who stood transfixed in the aisle, his work only half completed. Though he managed to retain his balance the collection plate was jolted from his hand and in its clattering descent was accompanied by the tinkling of a small shower of silver coins which rolled here and there over the floor of the church.,

“Do you know that piece of music called ‘The Rose of Larst Summer’?” inquired the musical connoisseur.

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“’Pears to me, Pat Bliggins, you haven’t been listenin’ proper to the story. These men rode a ship not a cayuse.”,

Involved and intricate variations of “Holy smoke!” made the air sulphureous as a swaying piece of wire caught his shoulder and tore a large gash in his shirt.,

“Grand chain,” bawled Geordie evidently feeling his importance, “dos-et-dos, ladies’ chain, swing on the corners, and put some feelin’ in your step.,

“Warsh yer ban’s, Mosey, an’ Par, an’ come on, Mar, here’s yer tea an’ crackers. Wisht I hed a piece of jelly-roll.”