“The boy is crazy,” said Olea, knitting on in unbroken calm.,
Yes, it was he, and would she accept a little Christmas present? Johnny Blossom held out to her the fancy paper basket filled with peppermint drops.,
“It was queer there weren’t more, but none of the apples would fall in the basket, and they would whack right down on the ground, and so they got bruised—and then we ate them, you see, Mother.”.
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