* * * * *
MORAL: Attend to the Remittances and Son will do the Rest.
* * * * *
_THE SEARCH FOR THE RIGHT HOUSE AND HOW MRS. JUMP HAD HER ANNUAL
ATTACK_
Once there was a Family called Jump I that had sampled every Ward
within the Corporation Limits.
The Jumps did a Caravan Specialty every time the Frost went out of
the Ground.
When the Sarsaparilla Ads began to blossom, and the Peach Crop had
been ruined by the late Cold Snap and the Kids were batting up Flies
in the Lot back of the Universalist Church, and a Barrel-Organ down
Street was tearing the Soul out of "Trovatore"--these were the Cues
for Mrs. Jump to get her Nose into the Air and begin to champ at the
Bit.
Mother was a House-Hunter from away back. She claimed to be an Invalid
eleven months out of the Year and took Nerve Medicine that cost $2.00
a Bottle. Just the same when April hove into view and Dame Nature
began to stretch herself, then Mother put on her Short Skirt and a
pair of Shoes intended for a Man and did a tall Prance.
She was good for 12 hours a Day on any kind of Pavements. With her
Reticule loaded foil of "To Let" Clippings, she hot-footed from Street
to Street. Every time she struck a Fresh Trail she broke into a Run.
Mother was looking for a House that had twice as many Closets as Rooms
and a Southern Exposure on all four sides.
She had conned herself into the Belief that some day she would run
down a Queen Anne Shack that would be O.
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