“No use,” said Johnny. “I’ll have to stand under the tree and hold the basket, while you shake the apples into it. Then they won’t whack on the ground and bruise themselves.”,
Johnny could say no more, but threw himself flat on the floor and cried. By degrees Mother got him to tell about the big boys, who wanted to ride, about the racing and everything.,
Gray-haired, delicate, with sorrowful eyes and long, white hands, Uncle Isaac sat in his big, carved, oaken chair..
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