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CHAPTER VIII ON STORMY SEAS Clarence had crossed the Pons Asinorum; a series of intoxicated circles, with sharp-cornered triangles piercing their fat sides, bore eloquent testimony to his faltering steps. “Surely Billy has earned it, Mrs. Bennett,” Mr. Smith urged..

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That ardent daughter of Jubal sighed, not for the encroachment on her Sunday afternoon leisure hour, but because she had found out the lesson was to be on Jonah and the whale. She had always been partial to the story of the ravens feeding Elijah and to the parable of the Prodigal Son. She felt that her temperament inclined her most to stories where hospitality and mouthwatering descriptions of hunger appeased provided the dramatic interest. Well she knew that the Tishbite and the erring son who returned to the feast of fatted calf would have received full justice at her hands. As for Jonah, and the whale with the inordinate oesophagus, she would do her best. “O, Dadsie,” was the reply, “this is recital afternoon, you know.” “Who is going to auction the quilt when it is finished?” inquired Nell Gordon, appealing to her hostess as President of the Ladies’ Aid. “Yes; and we’ll have to train the dogs,— Whoopee! Only four weeks of school. We’ll have to hurry if we do the circus and “Lady of the Lake” both before vacation.”.