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THE last week of school arrived. It was almost as good as a holiday, for those who had made the required percentage during the year were excused from examinations, and after roll call, released from attendance; and these included Billy and most of his cronies.,“What’s the harm? She’s on Mr. Potter’s land, and the road’s near.”,Betty was thoroughly engrossed in her subject. Her story was entirely of birds and flowers and fairies. True, the pictures did not realize in their movements the lightning-like rapidity of “really truly” moving pictures, but they moved as fast as the young eyes that followed them could wish.,“Anyhow, Mar, that fust punkin pie Par got was a howlin’ success.”,She glanced down the road, and swiftly around. Not a soul in sight. Obedience was inevitable.,A kindly man held her by the hand, yet he was evidently a stranger to her.,“I’ve watched, and called to him from the inside; but he only stands and mews. Did you ever see him climb up and open the screen?”,“Them critters has swore more than I ever heerd sence the ketchup bottle fomented an’ bust an’ splashed orl over Par’s shirt an’ trickled down his pants.”,Moses, his feelings by this time wrought to a state of down-right rebellion, grasped a pail in either hand and sought the peaceful atmosphere of the river.,After several rounds the mouse, at last seeing the open door, darted through it to freedom. Jethro a short distance behind assayed to follow; but taking a short cut under the back seat on which huddled the Mifsud family he unexpectedly encountered his ancient enemy Snappy the Mifsud’s collie. Snappy, who had been roused from his slumbers under the buckboard by the commotion in the church, had crept in unnoticed and had been an interested spectator of the proceedings. Jethro’s always superabundant energies were now turned in a new direction. Snarls and snaps and the fiercest growls testified to the bitterness of the feud.,Mr. Wopp and Moses, who had hurried to the upper storey to escape the recital of the ketchup episode, now came heavily down the stairs, their task at last finished.,The dutiful husband drew from his pocket a long slip of paper and a small stubby pencil. Having a poor memory, he had formed the habit of making a note of everything his wife suggested, so that he could fulfill her wishes in future. The notes were plentiful, but they failed in some unaccountable way to prod his memory..