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At this point Moses looked up from his plate and complained, “Mar, this piece o’ meat I got, is so tough it hurts yer eyes to look at it.” “Are you hungry, Isobel?” questioned her mother. “But it isn’t ten o’clock.”.
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Going down the stairs his loud unmelodious singing reached the ears of those in the bedroom. When he arrived at the foot, Betty, whose ears were attuned to all acts of outlawry, had reason to believe that Moses performed three successive somersaults. “I can’t. Nailed.” The band struck up and, intoxicated with the rhythm of the music, Moses skated as he had never done before. At first an object of amusement to the city boys he became the centre of an admiring throng. His spirals and figure eight’s were such as to call forth envious remarks. Even Clarence Egerton Crump thawed and admitted to several school mates that Moses Wopp was a pretty solid pal, only a bit gawky in his get-up. “Take care ole boy, you’ll trip on yer lip in another minute.”.
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