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“Can’t I see the faywies some time, Betty?” asked St. Elmo. Out of the tail of her eye Betty noted this little touch of sentiment and was much impressed. “But some people like their work, don’t they?” May Nell persisted. She was exploring strange country..
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“Mother,” he resumed, “I know I must freeze to some sort of business, and that mighty soon, too. But a preacher—why, he can’t be like anybody. He never has any fun.” “Well, Tom jumps up from the outside, hangs on the sill with one forefoot, and pulls out the edge of the screen with the other till he gets his nose in, when he can pry out the screen and slip through easily.” “Never mind Mosey, Next Monday I’m goin’ to ask Mar to let me stay home and turn the nasty mouldy machine.” Moses adored his little foster-sister when she was well; but sick, his adoration turned to blind worship. For several days Betty had been ill. Moses’ religion, bottled up during care-free days, burst forth in foam of intercession for Betty’s return to health..
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