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To stay the cloud that began to gather over Moses’ brow, Howard suggested going to see a vaudeville show. St. Elmo clapped his tiny hands and asked for “Moah,” while Norah Bliggins, who had been almost petrified when she heard the voice of Mrs. Wopp, sat hoping no one would ask her for the golden text. She was devoutly thankful that she could get up from her cramped position. A wide lath in the upturned box which served as her seat had broken and she had sunk deeper and deeper until her chubby chin and knees were in close proximity. It required the united efforts of Maria and Betty to extricate the unfortunate child. The doll was safe, however, and with fortitude worthy of emulation still smiled although sawdust again trickled from her re-opened wound. Henry started up a lusty crowing and Moses began to whistle while Betty uncovered the windows and made other preparations for leaving the loft. Several of her pictures had been spoiled by the rain and the box reduced to a soft pulpy mass. “But some people like their work, don’t they?” May Nell persisted. She was exploring strange country..
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“Tell us how you found him, Moses,” requested Nell Gordon, who was always interested in tales of knighthood. “Why yes Betty, what do you suppose they will talk about?” “Bear up aft there!” Billy commanded; and “Ay, ay, sir,” came back in equally nautical language. It seemed to him that his voice made no sound; that May Nell never ran so slowly; that the travellers would surely not hear him, not stop. How could they hear in all the noise?.
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