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“I reckon Joner hadn’t any too much light,” opined Mrs. Wopp. Pat Bliggins approached the receptacle and deposited a prodigiously overgrown, forked, dusty carrot, miraculously endowed with powers of emotion, for several wrinkles beneath its green feathery top betrayed extreme agitation. “Here’s Mis’ Mifsud an’ St. Elmo comin’ in the buckboard,” he announced..
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Conrad
He was a queer figure with his bandaged head, one eye peering out, and a long, dripping red quilt trailing behind him. “I found the bed flooded, and put the comfort round me; but someway that’s wet, too.” He could hardly speak for shivering. At this point Moses looked up from his plate and complained, “Mar, this piece o’ meat I got, is so tough it hurts yer eyes to look at it.” “Well, now, is that so? It sounds to me like a furrin word,” returned Mrs. Wopp, who admired Mrs. Mifsud’s polished utterances, while by no means undervaluing her own rhetorical gifts. “Mind? What do you mean by that? Anyway, you can’t prove it.”.
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