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“It is this little gentleman who has given me my eyes again, friends. What a blessed miracle it is that I can see!” Still, it was perfectly horrid that Tellef’s fishpole had got smashed. That was awfully bad luck. And his jacket torn, too. But how could he expect anything else when he was so horrid with his boasting and everything? Again little Johnny Blossom had a feeling that something was expected of him. So he stood up, put his heels together, bowed as well as he could in the moving carriage, and said: “Good-by! I thank you all. Good-by!”.

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“We’ve just got time to make it,” said Jerry. “That was sent three days ago and right now Mr. Whitney ought to be pulling out of Kansas City. We’ll catch the local out and be there just before he arrives.” Save, when the gale resounding sweeps, The distant torrent's melancholy note Suddenly he had a brilliant idea. That beautiful frame that he had carved in the autumn, he would give that to Uncle Isaac, with a pretty card on which he would write: “A hearty Christmas greeting from an affectionate boy. Johnny Blossom.”.