“Jiminy crickets! What’s happened, kid?” Billy asked, slowing up beside him.,
Presently the little Chinese boy returned, his grin resumed, and a large basket on his arm.,
In the meantime Mr. Wopp sitting precariously on the edge of the sofa was examining for at least the two-hundredth time the red plush album which contained the records of the Wopp family, past and present, in picture form. He looked long and earnestly at a tin-type representing a plump, velvet-coated, mop-haired boy of twelve. He sighed deeply..
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