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Presently, Moses made for the yard and on his way, offered tribute to Betty by standing on his head on the mat at the door. “Never min’, Pete, an’ thank you anyways, but sence the lesson’s a hull lot about the sea, I’ll jist write with blue chork.” “Why doesn’t the Gang come, mamma?” he asked, returning the kiss he knew was one ahead for his natal day..

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“She has a music class in Loma; and it isn’t dreamland, either, teaching; but she has to earn grub for me, sister does.” The frank statement of a truth he had grown accustomed to this morning roused a feeling of shame, and he gazed steadily at his plate. One tall, ambitious girl contributed a unique float called, “Lot’s Wife Looking Backward.” She had not been certain of the color for the desert, consequently had made the whole thing, including the wagon, the boys, and herself snowy white. She had copied an old Bible picture, carrying out the idea with sheets, and such liberal doses of flour, that only a heavy dew was needed to turn the float to dough instead of salt. However, the sun shone, and the addition of diamond dust over all made a very realistic picture that Billy praised heartily. “Wot’s the use of livin’ if Betty grows them there wings they talk of?” he demanded of the fowl as they scurried from his path. “Why doesn’t Billy come?” she asked of Bouncer; and the dog ran out of the door and stood on three legs, one forefoot lifted, his eyes fixed on the spot where Billy had disappeared. But no master was to be seen, and he went back to May Nell, whined, and put his nose on her knee..