“Miss Gordon done it, I know,” whispered Betty, clasping and unclasping her hands, “she’s not a school-teacher at orl, she’s jist a fairy growed up, an’ Mar’s a fairy godmother!”,
She put back his tumbled hair, looked long into his eyes, realizing with a shock that she was looking up. Her little boy was gone.,
“I mix up words that way sometimes, too,” the child excused..
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