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“Moses, here with that pie,” called the gratified Mrs. Wopp, “Yer par wants some.” Awakened to the fact of her son’s existence and perhaps as an antidote to her unusual display of sentiment, Mrs. Wopp spoke rather sharply. “Moses, time you an’ Betty was in bed. You won’t want to git up in the mornin’ an’ milk the cows.” Later left alone in the lower part of the house she stood arms akimbo in the middle of the kitchen gazing at the door through which Nell Gordon had just departed. Shaking her head she said mysteriously, “I kalkerlate as how things is a-settin’ in that way.” Armed with the big baskets, several young men of the party travelled from bench to bench, followed by others with coffee pots. The strenuous exercises of the evening, preceded in most cases by a long ride or drive, had developed vigorous appetites and the viands were disposed of with wonderful rapidity..
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From the waist down, Moses’ masculine and uncouth figure seemed to utter a dull protest against cut-me-downs. There are many forces in life that growing youths are not able to control. One of these, in the career of Moses, was the inexorable will of his mother that ordained homemade garments for his nether limbs. Made from his father’s discarded trousers of black and grey check, the new pair of abominations that adorned the legs of the youthful Wopp bore evidence to the unskilled fingers of the maker. They had the generous dimensions allowed by an imaginative and economical mind that could look into the future and could see legs lengthening and a general expansion. In fact, the coarse checked tweed fell in slight gathers, fore and aft. The dingy greenish-grey coat that slouched from Moses’ shoulders did not fail to heighten the effect, but seemed to set the costume in italics. May Nell sat still and smiled modestly. Billy stared at her, feeling still more foolish over his own mistake. “Jiminy whiz! Your royal splendor dazzles me!” Billy chaffed. As Mrs. Wopp adjusted her bonnet before leaving the house, she gave minute instructions to Mr. Wopp..
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