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Through the Stygian darkness of the loft loomed the figure of Mrs. Wopp, a white apron of huge dimensions indicating her presence. She made as though to descend the ladder. The first act over, a troop of black-faced comedians occupied the stage. This time Moses was more successful. Comforted, he felt he could enjoy a few morsels himself. Calling the contrite Jethro, who, after extricating himself from the ruins he had made, had retired under a bench, the boy made his way to a remote corner. Here no parental admonitions would disturb him. He surveyed with pleased expectancy an enormous triangle of pie, a huge slab of gingerbread, a monument of glistening iced cake, half a dozen tarts, and a few other trifles he had brought with him..

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Then Moses commenced. He ran up and down a chromatic scale of puffs and groans and sniffles, ending with a cadence that sounded like, “Gosh dern!” “Jevver see sich a useless boy? Been learnin’ spellin’s orl day, I ’xpect.” Betty had a conviction, though an unspoken one, that Moses was the primary cause of Job’s infirmity. The slowest of a large family of striped fluffy turkeys to emerge from the shell, he had been assisted in his efforts by the impatient Moses. Betty felt sure that the clumsy fingers of the boy had ruined the little turkey’s eye. The accusation, however, was too dreadful to be put into words. At this point Superintendent Stolway rang the bell for general assembly. As she drew the curtains, Mrs. Wopp reflected that she had nobly pumped from the well of truth, crystal waters for the mental refreshment of her scholars..