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St. Elmo clapped his tiny hands and asked for “Moah,” while Norah Bliggins, who had been almost petrified when she heard the voice of Mrs. Wopp, sat hoping no one would ask her for the golden text. She was devoutly thankful that she could get up from her cramped position. A wide lath in the upturned box which served as her seat had broken and she had sunk deeper and deeper until her chubby chin and knees were in close proximity. It required the united efforts of Maria and Betty to extricate the unfortunate child. The doll was safe, however, and with fortitude worthy of emulation still smiled although sawdust again trickled from her re-opened wound. Henry started up a lusty crowing and Moses began to whistle while Betty uncovered the windows and made other preparations for leaving the loft. Several of her pictures had been spoiled by the rain and the box reduced to a soft pulpy mass. She put back his tumbled hair, looked long into his eyes, realizing with a shock that she was looking up. Her little boy was gone. “Bully for you, Ladybird. I’ve got a backer you see, sister.”.

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Oh, where have you been, charming Billy?” [42]Mrs. Bennett did not know, as her son did, that the retort touched a sore fact. Jimmy’s eyes darkened with the look that had earned for him the name of “Sour.” Yet in spite of this he had a fine, strong face. The broad shaft of sunlight that flooded the dining-room where Nell Gordon sat was suddenly darkened. Looking up she saw the tall straight figure of Howard Eliot at the doorway. “Please did the lot hurt Joner when it fell?” queried a sober-minded seeker of truth..