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“You’re the only girl I’m afraid of in that line. Isn’t that so, Pretty?” “Ain’t she her own aunt?” hazarded Mr. Wopp, abstractedly thrusting his hammer into his boot top and scratching his bald head with a pair of pincers. “He mustn’t git thinkin’ too much of hisself ’cause o’ what he did this day,” warned the boy’s mother. “Pride goes afore distruckshing, an’ a horty spirit afore a fall.”.
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Conrad
Jean and the twins, Charley, George and some others, rattled down the stairs; while Clarence and Harry stood rigid, with wooden scymitars drawn, one on each side of the door. LITTLE by little they learned something of May Nell’s story. Her mother had intended to start for New York on the morning of the earthquake, having been called there by her own mother’s illness. Mrs. Smith, though held to the last by household business, had let her little daughter go to visit a widowed aunt and cousin, who lived in a down-town hotel, and who were to bring May Nell to meet her mother at the Ferry Building the next morning. But where at night had stood the hotel with its many human lives housed within, the next morning’s sunshine fell upon a heap of ruins burning fiercely. A stranger rescued May Nell, though her aunt and cousin had to be left behind, pinned to their fiery death. “Ebenezer Wopp, I’ve tarlked to you till I’m black in the face, but it’s jist wastin’ valyble breath. Yer brains is allers wool-gatherin’. The hammer’s in yer hip-pocket.” “It’s only a chop left from yesterday,” he excused on his return..
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