"Hasn't that boy a lovely disposition?" Aunt Martha beamed on
Tacks; "to be so forgiving to the janitor after the horrid man had
sworn at him and blamed him for putting a cat in the dumb waiter
and sending it up to the nervous lady on the seventh floor who
abominated cats and who screamed and fell over in a tub of suds
when she opened the dumb-waiter door to get her groceries and the
cat jumped at her. Mercy! how can the boy be so generous!"
Tacks bore up bravely under this panegyric of praise and his face
wore a rapt expression which amounted almost to religious fervor.
"What did you give the janitor, Angel-Face?" I asked.
"Only just another remembrance," Tacks answered, solemnly. "I
happened to find a poor, little dead mouse under the gas range and
I thought I'd farewell the janitor with it."
Aunt Martha sighed painfully and Uncle Peter chuckled inwardly like
a mechanical toy hen.
On the train out to Jiggersville Clara J. was a picture entitled,
"The Joy of Living"--kind regards to Mrs. Pat Campbell; Ibsen
please write.
As for me with every revolution of the wheels I grew more and more
like a half portion of chipped beef.
"Oh, John!" said Clara J., her voice shrill with excitement; "I
forgot to tell you! I left my key with Mother, and she's going to
superintend the packing of the furniture this afternoon. By
evening she expects to have everything loaded in the van and we
won't have to wait any time for our trunks and things!"
"Great Scott!" I yelled; "maybe you won't like the house! Maybe
it's only a shanty with holes in the roof--er, I mean, maybe you'll
be disappointed with the lay-out! What's the blithering sense of
being in such a consuming fever about moving the fiendish
furniture? I'm certain you'll hate the very sight of this
corn-crib out among the ant hills.
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