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Mrs. Wopp was too busy to eat breakfast in the orthodox fashion. She could be heard in the kitchen preparing for the trying ordeal of wash-day. Out in the yard the head of the house was busy feeding the fowl. As Mrs. Wopp stood watching her family and the new teacher climb the hill on their way to school, she remarked to herself, “That boy jist naterly takes to mischief same as a gopher takes to my green peas.” “How do you know?”.
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Conrad
“No more, kitties; that’s all that is good for you. Go back to your chair.” “Well, you know the other thing to do if you don’t like it,” Billy retorted, bluntly. “She’s my sister till her folks are found, and that isn’t likely.” “St. Elmo’s lost, Ma,” wailed Maria. “We can’t find him and he’s wandered down the creek.” As the story became more intelligible to childish apprehension, several bright pairs of eyes rested on the teacher. “Then,” continued Mrs. Wopp, “the sailors carst lots to see who should be throwed orf the ship, an’ the lot fell on Joner.”.
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