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He sat by the table in his dressing-room with angry storm-swept countenance. He had been capturing loud plaudits with his rag-time, until intoxicated with success, he swept into a tornado of music by Moskowski. The applause died away; two ladies in the front row began chatting. The enraged artist jumped from the piano-stool, and shouting “Pigs!” raced from the platform. “Three you should say. Don’t you live in the dreamland of music? Eat your own breakfast, or you’ll be late for the train.” “O, Dadsie,” was the reply, “this is recital afternoon, you know.”.
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Conrad
“Yes, he did. And he said, awfully solemn, ‘Remember, Billy, no one but a coward strikes his foe in the back. A boy of mine who could do that,—I don’t think I should wish him to wear this.’ And he pointed to his Loyal Legion button. O mother, I hit Jimmy first, I hit him in the back, and I—I kicked him in the stomach! I’ve disgraced papa’s button forever!” His last words were a groan, and he hid his face. “None too strong. But she’s picking up since the doctor gave her a tonic,” was the reply. CHAPTER IV THE TWO-LIGHT TIME “Jiminy whiz! Your royal splendor dazzles me!” Billy chaffed..
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