t do I care about the way they fought their old
battles and built their old one-horse bridges! What makes me angry is
the way Caesar has of telling a thing. Why can't he drive right
straight ahead instead of beating about the bush so? If I couldn't get
up a better language than those old duffers used to write their books
in, I'd lie down and die. I can't find the old verb to that sentence
anyway. Maybe it's around on the other page somewhere, or maybe Caesar
left it out just on purpose to plague us boys."

And Will shied the book over to Alice, who good-naturedly began to
read, while that much suffering youth sat down by Bess and began to
tease her and Clara.

"What are you and Clara doing at this time of day? Time you youngsters
were going up stairs. Play us a little tune, Bessie, will you? What
you been crying for, Clara Vere de Vere?"

"I should think you would be ashamed of yourself, Will, studying on
Sundays," said Bess reprovingly and with dignity.

"No worse than sparking Sunday nights," retorted the incorrigible Will.

"I haven't been," replied Bess, indignantly. "I've been with Clara."

"She doesn't need any help, does she?" inquired Will, innocently. And
going over where Clara lay with her face hid in the pillow of a large
couch, Will tried to pull the pillow out from under her head.

"Let me alone, Will. I don't feel well," said a muffled voice from the
pillow.

"Pshaw! you're fooling."

"No, I'm not. Let me alone."

"Come here, or I won't read your sentence for you," called Alice. And
Will reluctantly withdrew, for he knew from experience that Alice would
keep her word.

"All right. Now go ahead; not too fast. Here! Wait a minute! Let me
write her down. I don't intend to miss to-morrow if I can help it.
And old Romulus will call me up on this very passage, I know. Be just
like him, though, to strike me on the review."

At that minute the door opened and in came George, the elder boy, and
the oldest of the group of children. He hung up hat and coat, and
strolled into the room.

"Where's mother?"

"She's in the other room," answered Bess. "Father's been asleep, and
mother was afraid he was going to have a fever."

"That's one of your stories," said George, who seemed in a good-natured
mood. He sat down and drew his little sister towards him and whispered
to her:

"Say, Bess, I want some money again."

"Awfully?" whispered Bess.

"Yes, for a special reason. Do you