Johnny Blossom put his hands in his pockets and whistled, “Yes, we love our grand old Norway,” loudly and shrilly.,
“What’s the row, Bob?” he wanted to know.,
Aunt Grenertsen had lived in the little house on King Street for an age, ever since he could remember; and everything she had was very old-fashioned. There was a cuckoo clock, and a blue glass jar with dried rose-leaves in; and on the window sill an old gray cat blinked and purred among the plants..
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