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“You’re George Rideout Smith’s kid, ain’t you?” “‘You bet’ isn’t nice,” the child chid gently, and waited a moment before continuing. “My papa won’t let my mama work. He went to South America to get rich. When he comes back, he wrote in a letter to me, I shall be as rich as a princess.” The child obeyed, but her fingers trembled; and Bouncer whined and licked her hand..
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Conrad
In a cage of wire netting bearing the legend, “The Roc—The Egg,” the uncomfortable gander swayed and craned his neck; and all but his voice was satisfactory. In the bottom of the cage a whitewashed stone the size of a small pumpkin did duty as the egg. “Why doesn’t your mama have a man to take care of the grounds?” she questioned after she had told him something of her parents and home. “All over the house does she put them?” the child asked after she had snipped a fragrant heap. Mrs. Wopp leaning towards a lady on her right inquired, “Do you know Mis’ Stephens, why Joe Avery is not dancin’ this evenin’. Ever sence we come into this here barn he has never moved from his seat.”.
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