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“Did you hev a good time in the city larst week, Mis’ Mifsud?” asked Mrs. Wopp, politely. The struggle was short. When Jimmy resisted no longer, but, after a fall against the fence with his arm doubled under and back, did not try to rise, Billy came to his senses. He cleared the dust from his eyes a little and turned to see why Jimmy didn’t speak. He lay with closed eyes, motionless! As that energetic lady bustled about the kitchen the same evening setting the bread, her voice rose in a series of trills and other embellishments as she sang “Where is my wanderin’ boy to-night?”.

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Then one day, after several years, a stranger had come to town with a startling story. He said that he had been a sailor on the “Wanderer,” when she had made her last voyage. The ship had been blown in a gale upon the rocky coast of a small island in the south seas. He with several others of the crew and a few passengers had managed to get to land and had been hospitably treated by the natives. A small trading-vessel which regularly visited the island had taken them off in the course of the next few weeks, but one of their number, a passenger named Snoop, had refused to leave. He had asserted he might as well be there as anywhere else. Later reports brought from the island by the crew of the trading-vessel had been to the effect that Mr. Snoop was leading a tranquil and peaceful existence. He was espoused to several dusky maidens and was so much revered and respected as the only possessor of a white skin on the island, that he was never expected to stir hand or foot in any way suggesting work. “All right,” Billy acquiesced with a nonchalant tact; “I thought Sour’n Shifty’d make good surveyors, Pretty; but I guess you can do that an’ your own job too, can’t you?” Billy turned to Harold, while George watched to see what Jimmy did. And Billy seeing sweet potatoes sticking out of hot ashes, and other luxuries in evidence, concluded that some business was “doin’ among the girls,” where he wouldn’t be welcome. He went back to the “Front,” where some of the contractors were having a violent altercation over the meaning of certain specifications. The Boss soon arbitrated successfully, and things moved “lively” for a short time, when the[55] banging of a dishpan announced dinner at “the hotel.” Uplifted by limburger, Mr. Wopp grew emboldened, “Jist a mouthful of somethink don’t hurt nobody, an’ I’ll be asleep afore you kin say Jack Robinson, an’ ef I talk as loud as you snore, we’re even I reckon.”.