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She emerged from the house her hair coiled on the top of her head and decorated with a strip of shining silver from an empty biscuit tin. Thus had she seen a circus lady dressed on one never-to-be-forgotten day. Around her small body was draped a yellow silk shawl of Mrs. Wopps. Her feet were encased in a pair of Ebenezer Wopp’s reddest socks, bound on by bright green ribbon ripped from her winter hat. From her fair hair floated a white aigret made of chicken feathers hastily wired together. Moses needed no aigret as a strand of red hair stood upright from the crown of his head. “Yes, right now.” He stepped nearer, and Bouncer growled and bristled. Yet only a part of the long day went to study. They spent delightful hours rehearsing the stories of favorite books, and otherwise amused themselves by improvising tales of marvellous adventure. The school children sent notes, the latest school jokes, and original pictures, interesting if sometimes not quite clear as to meaning. Clarence indited his first letter. Here it is:.
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“He’s been pushin’ up the daisies fer thirty years, I ain’t goin’ to warble to please no tombstun.” Moses swung a ponderous foot to give emphasis to his decision. Mrs. Crump smiled kindly at the impressionable boy, and lest her son’s evident amusement should wound his feelings, she asked, “Do you like hearing of other countries and of other people?” Mrs. Wopp’s face assumed a forgiving air as she accepted this defence. Then began that portion of the story that leads up to the tragic culmination. “Anyhow, Mar, that fust punkin pie Par got was a howlin’ success.”.
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