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Sometimes all the small meanness of everyday life is swept away by a great calamity, and the world forgets to hate, and opens its great heart of love. Such an event came through the catastrophe in San Francisco. It inclined every ear, moistened every eye. From all the world’s pocketbook came the golden dollars; from every soul the longing to do; and when it was done, disappointment because it was so little. Howard Eliot having left his charges safely at home went to his lonely ranch haunted by rebellious thoughts which Mrs. Wopp would have translated, “Here endeth my knowledge of the female speeshie.” CHAPTER V THE FAIR ELLEN.

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It had been Mrs. Wopp’s aim, to have the names for all the members of the household sanctified by biblical authority. She claimed to have had unnumbered admirers in her youth and had singled out her husband for his scriptural appellation. A store of names had been secretly acquired for use in the event of her marriage, but as in the course of years only one boy had come to add freckles and rotundity to the family circle, she was thankful that she had used at least three of the collection on the fortunate youth. Moses Habakuk Ezra Wopp, the exact counterpart of his mother, sat next to his father and eyed the plate of Betty, who was seated beside him, mentally calculating the amount of each succulent morsel she consumed. Since he was twice her size, he was entitled, he thought, to at least twice her share. On his own plate a lonely pickled onion floated in gravy. “Come here Betty, till I clean yer face. Where is that boy Moses? I know he had a hand in this. Drat him anyhow,” said the incensed Mrs. Wopp. Not far behind the democrat came a light buggy drawn by a team of greys. Howard Eliot and Nell Gordon sat therein. “Miss Gordon done it, I know,” whispered Betty, clasping and unclasping her hands, “she’s not a school-teacher at orl, she’s jist a fairy growed up, an’ Mar’s a fairy godmother!”.