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In his distress his wandering eye discovered a bunch of vine ties, short pieces of soft hemp rope for fastening vines to their supporting stakes. They were hanging against the rear of the coop, and a gust of wind had blown them into view. Like a flash he sprang and caught them; tied several together in quick, strong knots, and lashed himself to the little tree. Then he took up the board again, poised it at a perpendicular, calculated the angle, and slowly dropped it. Would the end reach the sill? No, it was too short! “Moses, yer as useless as the hole in a doughnut; here quick gimme yer handkerchief till I mop up yer Par.” “Don’t you think the new teacher is jist lovely Moses, with her big shinin’ blue eyes an’ wavy black hair?” Betty eagerly enquired, “An’ aint her clothes lovely too?”.
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“Shore nuff, what relationship do you s’pose they are all to each other now?” “My religion’s purty well wartered now, I guess,” said Moses, sheepishly, to Clarence, who met him at the end of the fateful corridor. That youth had followed his country friend from the Sunday-school hall, but not in time to direct his erring steps. 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. “I b’lieve I’ll go an’ git the warterin’ can,” announced Betty. “These pansies is orful dry, an’ even ef the sun is shinin’ on them, some warter round the roots wont hurt. You stay here, St. Elmo, an’ I’ll be back in a minute.”.
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