“Never min’, Pete, an’ thank you anyways, but sence the lesson’s a hull lot about the sea, I’ll jist write with blue chork.”,
Betty said her prayers that night before her cyclamen. It seemed to her a “mornin’-glory that had been growed by an angel, its petals sparkled so, an’ it smelled so pure.” She breathed very softly her thanksgiving, with a vague feeling that it had wings and could find its way better than she knew.,
“It’s my fault, too, Mrs. Bennett; don’t put the blame all on Billy,” Jean half sobbed; and hurried after him..
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