Unmarked6698
- Flag inappropriate
- Show review history
The stout gentleman had a tight grip on Johnny’s little red ear. “Dad made his own way, tackled the job he wanted and made good. I’ve got to do the same. Probably his father wanted him to do something quite different. I’ll ask him about that some time. Besides, if I just took up Dad’s business, it wouldn’t seem right somehow.” Soon he was in the grounds again, but he did not hurry, nor did he give one thought to the cross mastiff. Every now and then he opened his hand to look at the two silver pieces. To think that he really had two half-dollars! He could get himself extra good fishing tackle for that much money—far better than William Holm’s even. Yes, as Uncle Isaac had said, there was always something you wanted to buy for yourself. What was that other thing Uncle Isaac had said? The man with the most love in his heart was the greatest? He who was kind was greater than he who was strong?.
453 people found this
review helpful
kez_ h (Kez_h)
- Flag inappropriate
- Show review history
Betty said her prayers that night before her cyclamen. It seemed to her a “mornin’-glory that had been growed by an angel, its petals sparkled so, an’ it smelled so pure.” She breathed very softly her thanksgiving, with a vague feeling that it had wings and could find its way better than she knew.I tried logging in using my phone number and I
was supposed to get a verification code text,but didn't
get it. I clicked resend a couple time, tried the "call
me instead" option twice but didn't get a call
either. the trouble shooting had no info on if the call
me instead fails.There was
“Sure! Take care of the truck, will you?” He dropped his burdens to Jean’s willing hands, and darted forward.
658 people found this
review helpful
Conrad
“You?” gasped Bob. “You? What are you doing here? To tell us that the dirty work you started is successful?” Light-hearted now, Johnny Blossom ran through the garden, fastening the gate carefully, while at the window an old face peered out from among the plants, through tear-misted spectacles. Then Aunt Grenertsen took the stamp and pasted it on the window pane nearest where she sat. “John!” screamed Mother, starting up. “Oh, Johnny! my boy, my boy! Is it really you?” Johnny grew crimson with pleasure. “Oh, thank you, thank you!”.
298 people found this
review helpful