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Mrs. Bennett hugged her closer and patted her cheek softly, but let the passion of tears spend itself a little before trying the comfort of words. Then she questioned of the child’s parents, her past life, and the events just preceding the catastrophe in San Francisco, that she herself might better understand how to shield and make happy the little waif that a terrible, heaving earth had cast into her home, her arms. “Only little girls see fairies ever,” was the reply. “What has happened to you, Billy?” his mother questioned sharply as she turned at his voice and saw his damaged head. “You’re hurt, Billy!”.
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Conrad
“Them’s thum,” was the sophisticated answer. “Easy, mates. Kids, belay there, till we launch her!” This to the gaping youngsters always in the way. “No, Billy never forgets his cats,” his sister answered for him; “though the chickens might sometimes suffer but for mamma. Take your ill-bred felines out, Billy.” CHAPTER IV.—WASH-DAY AT MRS. WOPP’S..
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