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“What’s Jeth perched up there fer, Par?” demanded the boy. The trail was for the most part smooth and uneventful, but here and there the wheels of the democrat dipped into a gopher hole, causing anxiety and discomfort, especially to those in the back seat. These ladies were holding on to the side bars with utmost tenacity, yet Mrs. Wopp afterwards asserted, that when a particularly vicious depression was encountered, they were bounced violently at least three feet in the air and were considerably worried lest they should not land on the seat again. However, they displayed great fortitude under these distressing circumstances, and by the time Moses had calmed the horses to a slower pace, they had regained self-possession. All but May Nell; when Edith and Mrs. Bennett rubbed and warmed her she declared she didn’t need it, and was so absorbed in lamenting the loss of the Fair Ellen, she could think of nothing else..

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“Yes, I can see that the wind, the shaking tower, the creaking mill, would bring such dreams,” his mother said. “Hear the wind howl now!” On such visits Mrs. Wopp enjoyed herself hugely. Her volubility was overpowering; as Mrs. Mifsud had been known to remark, “Not even a comma was there to clutch at to make good ones escape.” The faster her needle flew the faster raced her tongue. In view of the impending visit Mrs. Mifsud had surreptitiously stuffed one ear with cotton batting so that in the event of an extremely sanguinary onslaught, so to speak, at least one rampart of defence could be instantaneously thrown up. Ebenezer Wopp unlike his wife was expecting nothing but an afternoon of self-effacement though prepared to secretly admire to the full Mrs. Wopp’s sprightly conversation. Picking up a second paper at random, “This is a composition on Alfred the Great,” he explained. “I dassent do it, Betty,” replied Moses. “Anyhow this ole pair of scissors ’d do the job better.”.