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“She’s at Vine Hill—miles away; we’ll beat her if we hurry.” His words were a bit breathless. “This froth looks like soapsuds,” he complained. “And I’m always going to be your little girl, too,” the child pleaded; “so Billy must be my papa’s little boy.”.
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Conrad
He was standing disconsolate, looking up the street for stragglers, when his mother came in again. They all went off, a merry, noisy troop. And the disappearing sun was the last to say to Billy “Good-night.” “None too strong. But she’s picking up since the doctor gave her a tonic,” was the reply. “O mother,” he began, excitedly, and stopped. Only lately had he called her “mother” in his serious moments, and the name gave her pain as well as pleasure, for it was one more announcement of the coming man..
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