Like little mice, stole in and out,,
"I am always forgiving you, it seems to me," says Mona, coldly, turning from him with a frown. "And as for that heather," facing him again, with eyes shamed but wrathful, "I just kept it because—because—oh, because I didn't like to throw it away! That was all!",
"Mona! There is no one so sweet or comforting as you are," she cries, giving her a grateful hug. "I really think I do feel a little better now.".
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