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This time Moses was more successful. Comforted, he felt he could enjoy a few morsels himself. Calling the contrite Jethro, who, after extricating himself from the ruins he had made, had retired under a bench, the boy made his way to a remote corner. Here no parental admonitions would disturb him. He surveyed with pleased expectancy an enormous triangle of pie, a huge slab of gingerbread, a monument of glistening iced cake, half a dozen tarts, and a few other trifles he had brought with him. Job, his ardor undampened by the strangeness of this reception, made haste to follow. “Some of the real stuff,” he requested, “just to make these folks realize they haven’t begun to live yet.”.
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Conrad
“Where is the dern dog hurt?” commiserated Moses. CHAPTER XVII.—A SAMPLE OF EBENEZER WOPP’S IRE. The dutiful husband drew from his pocket a long slip of paper and a small stubby pencil. Having a poor memory, he had formed the habit of making a note of everything his wife suggested, so that he could fulfill her wishes in future. The notes were plentiful, but they failed in some unaccountable way to prod his memory. “But you may have broken bones—be seriously injured.”.
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