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Mrs. Wopp was an incurable optimist, although the citadel of her optimism was being assailed. Turning her wrathful gaze from Moses, her eye lighted on the soiled pink hat and antimacassar still worn by Job. She burst into a hearty laugh and turned to Betty. “Oh, Billy To-morrow! You won’t have half time enough to play. You’re a regular Mexican,—always mañana!” Betty had lent Moses fifteen cents of her Christmas money and was receiving two pink and white candy canes as her weekly dividend—“truly a lean annuitant.”.

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“Choose your partners for a quadrille,” called Geordie, and once more the floor was filled. There was room for six sets and in one of these stood Mr. Wopp with his partner Nell, while at the capacious side of Mrs. Wopp was Howard. “Yes; but some one who could take care of himself. And you didn’t expect to open dressmaking parlors.” “Every tub must stan’ on its own bottom,” commented Mrs. Wopp. But even as she spoke, an unmistakable expression of gratified pride spread over her large motherly countenance. “Ugh! Confound their impudence, I’ll make them listen yet to something else than rag.”.