Excerpt: "“O-O-OH! oh me-e!” Dick made the sigh very sad and pitiful His father did not seem to hear it. He tilted his chair farther back, perched his feet on the porch railing, and unfolded his newspaper It was a mild April morning, and the Osborne family had drifted out on the porch,—Mr. Osborne with his papers and Mrs. Osborne with her sewing; Sweet William was playing jackstraws with himself, Patsy sat on the steps with her back to the others, especially Dick, who, however, was pitying himself too much to notice her “I always get blamed for everything I do,” he said mournfully, “but David—— “‘House for War: Vote 373 to 50.’” Mr. Osborne read the headline. “That is the answer to the President’s message four days ago. Now the Senate—— “Father! If you’ll just let me off to-day, I’ll work from school-out till dark every day next week. I certainly will. Father, please——” “Richard Randolph Osborne! You are to work your assigned part of the garden to-day, to-day, without further pleas for postponement.” Mr. Osborne’s mild voice and red flabby face stiffened with determination. This was not the first week that Dick had neglected his garden task. “Yes, sir,” Dick answered meekly, wriggling a little. That was all he could do—wriggle a little—because he was made into a sort of merman by having an old Persian shawl wrapped about him, from the waist down. “I think you might let me off,” he persisted in an undertone; “just this one more time. If mother had patched my trousers last night—if she’d let me put on my Sundays now—I could get that hateful old garden worked this morning. I’ve got something else to do to-day, something awfully important.”"

Excerpt: "“O-O-OH! oh me-e!” Dick made the sigh very sad and pitiful His father did not seem to hear it. He tilted his chair farther back, perched his feet on the porch railing, and unfolded his newspaper It was a mild April morning, and the Osborne family had drifted out on the porch,—Mr. Osborne with his papers and Mrs. Osborne with her sewing; Sweet William was playing jackstraws with himself, Patsy sat on the steps with her back to the others, especially Dick, who, however, was pitying himself too much to notice her “I always get blamed for everything I do,” he said mournfully, “but David—— “‘House for War: Vote 373 to 50.’” Mr. Osborne read the headline. “That is the answer to the President’s message four days ago. Now the Senate—— “Father! If you’ll just let me off to-day, I’ll work from school-out till dark every day next week. I certainly will. Father, please——” “Richard Randolph Osborne! You are to work your assigned part of the garden to-day, to-day, without further pleas for postponement.” Mr. Osborne’s mild voice and red flabby face stiffened with determination. This was not the first week that Dick had neglected his garden task. “Yes, sir,” Dick answered meekly, wriggling a little. That was all he could do—wriggle a little—because he was made into a sort of merman by having an old Persian shawl wrapped about him, from the waist down. “I think you might let me off,” he persisted in an undertone; “just this one more time. If mother had patched my trousers last night—if she’d let me put on my Sundays now—I could get that hateful old garden worked this morning. I’ve got something else to do to-day, something awfully important.”"

Excerpt: "“O-O-OH! oh me-e!” Dick made the sigh very sad and pitiful His father did not seem to hear it. He tilted his chair farther back, perched his feet on the porch railing, and unfolded his newspaper It was a mild April morning, and the Osborne family had drifted out on the porch,—Mr. Osborne with his papers and Mrs. Osborne with her sewing; Sweet William was playing jackstraws with himself, Patsy sat on the steps with her back to the others, especially Dick, who, however, was pitying himself too much to notice her “I always get blamed for everything I do,” he said mournfully, “but David—— “‘House for War: Vote 373 to 50.’” Mr. Osborne read the headline. “That is the answer to the President’s message four days ago. Now the Senate—— “Father! If you’ll just let me off to-day, I’ll work from school-out till dark every day next week. I certainly will. Father, please——” “Richard Randolph Osborne! You are to work your assigned part of the garden to-day, to-day, without further pleas for postponement.” Mr. Osborne’s mild voice and red flabby face stiffened with determination. This was not the first week that Dick had neglected his garden task. “Yes, sir,” Dick answered meekly, wriggling a little. That was all he could do—wriggle a little—because he was made into a sort of merman by having an old Persian shawl wrapped about him, from the waist down. “I think you might let me off,” he persisted in an undertone; “just this one more time. If mother had patched my trousers last night—if she’d let me put on my Sundays now—I could get that hateful old garden worked this morning. I’ve got something else to do to-day, something awfully important.”"