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The Mornin'-Glory Girl

The Mornin'-Glory Girl

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The Project Gutenberg eBook, The Mornin'-Glory Girl, by Alice Maud Winlow and Kathryn Pocklington

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Title: The Mornin'-Glory Girl

Author: Alice Maud Winlow and Kathryn Pocklington

Release Date: April 6, 2015 [eBook #48647]

Language: English

Character set encoding: UTF-8

***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE MORNIN'-GLORY GIRL***

 

E-text prepared by Roger Frank
and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team
(http://www.bookcove.net)

 


 

 

 

 

The Mornin’-Glory Girl

By

Alice M. Winlow
and
Kathryn Pocklington

 

 

McCLELLAND & STEWART, LIMITED

PUBLISHERS—TORONTO

COPYRIGHT, CANADA, 1920
BY McCLELLAND & STEWART, LIMITED, TORONTO

PRINTED IN CANADA

THIS LITTLE BOOK IS DEDICATED
TO THOSE KINDLY SOULS
WHO CONSISTENTLY SING,
“SCATTER SEEDS OF KINDNESS.”

CHAPTER I.—MRS. WOPP’S HOSPITALITY.

Ebenezer Wopp sat at the head of the table. Beaming from behind a promising array of cups and saucers, his portly wife presented a countenance of aggressive hospitality. In height and girth Mrs. Wopp had much the advantage of her husband.

“Arsk a blessin’, Ebenezer.”

All heads bowed as the compliant master of the house, with thin nervous hands outspread and in a voice quavering with piety, responded to this request. Moses of the freckled face and pale blue eyes, kept one eye open as grace was being said, in order to scan the bounteous display on the table. Furtively he chose the largest bun on the plate that was placed close to Betty, his little foster-sister. To annex the most corpulent pickle would require some slight manœuvring, but he felt sure it could be managed.

“Amen!”

Suddenly, all heads were raised and a sigh of satisfaction escaped Mrs. Wopp’s lips.

“We do be glad to hev the new schoolmarm,” she announced, “you might of mentioned her, in yer blessin’, Ebenezer.”

“I’ll make a note of that, Lize.”

The dutiful husband drew from his pocket a long slip of paper and a small stubby pencil. Having a poor memory, he had formed the habit of making a note of everything his wife suggested, so that he could fulfill her wishes in future. The notes were plentiful, but they failed in some unaccountable way to prod his memory.

“Never mind yer notes, Ebenezer, jist you sarve the pork.”

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.

“Mar,” he demanded hastily, “more marshed turnips, please.”

“We shorely are glad to hev a teacher at larst,” re-asserted the bustling lady of the house, as she passed a cup of creamy tea to her new boarder. “Did you hear what happened to our larst teacher, Miss Gordon?” Here the good lady heaved a deep sigh. “The pore man hed a tryin’ time with some big boys named Bullock who started in to school larst fall arter workin’ all

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