St. Elmo looked at the specimens in his hand. “These pansies is most deaded. I fink I’ll fwow them away,” he declared.,
“It’s that Jake. He’s sich an ornery animule,” explained the boy, thus shamelessly vilifying a patient and much enduring character.,
St. Elmo Mifsud, his angelic face framed in silky curls, now became the prey to the machinations of Pete Solway, who had eluded the vigilant eye of Mrs. Wopp during her dramatic recital. A roar of pain escaped the child as a sharp tweak was applied to his curls. Recalled to matters entirely mundane, the teacher administered severe reproof.,
“Maria, where is St. Elmo?” asked Mrs. Mifsud, as with flushed face she basted some fowls in the oven.
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“Shore nuff, what relationship do you s’pose they are all to each other now?”,
“Oh, Billy, Billy! My beautiful opera is ruined!” Edith wailed, as she heard the jeers of the small boys in the audience.,
Sun, dressed this time in bright yellow satin, and crowned with yellow gems, was surrounded by fairies, and came more and more boldly forward. He beckoned to Flora, menaced the earth sprites, and threatened Storm, Wind, and Frost; and at the close was rewarded by Flora’s rejoicing cry,,
As Clarence depicted the terror of the father, lest his arrow miss the mark and kill his son, Moses rose from his chair in breathless suspense. However, the arrow cleft the apple and left the boy unscathed, and the relieved Moses, sinking back in his chair, recovered himself sufficiently to murmur “What an orful chanct fer anyone ter take!”
But Moses refused to dilate on the subject. He realized that some of the cream might be removed from his achievement were he to explain the matter of the cave. He so seldom had the felicity of being placed on a pedestal, and his present status must be maintained if possible. So he murmured something to the effect that the others were so slow he thought he’d “jist go ahead o’ them an’ try to find the blame kid a little farster.”
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Developer Response,
The chinking began in earnest. Moses stood, turning till each freckle on his ruddy face shone with honest sweat.
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It’s a Quan-Yuan
“A cat tablecloth!” the little girl laughed.
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Betty, orphaned at the age of six, had been adopted by the kind-hearted Mrs. Wopp. The child found her chief joy in life, outside of Jethro, Nancy and Job, in a flower-bed. A small plot of ground had been allotted her for her own use, and there every spring for the last four years her precious flowers had bloomed and had filled her eyes with brightness and her soul with gladness. Morning-glories and nasturtiums were the surest to bloom. They climbed the strings so gracefully and turned the old weather-beaten fence where they grew into a tapestry of gorgeous dyes.
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Halin-Chen Response,
>“Gee whack! That’s the hardest work of all,” Billy complimented.
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