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“Been talkin’ to a grave-digger?” queried Mrs. Wopp, of her offspring, as Moses selected a comfortable seat, his sober face still bearing traces of the last few days’ anxiety. She looked on the solicitude of Moses with an approving eye, but it was necessary, however, to hide her maternal pride by a series of assaults upon him on every possible pretext. Her banterings also helped to keep her son and heir in the spotlight. “An’ well I know who’s makin’ him stew an’ chomp. You needn’t try to deceive yer, Mar,” chided the knowing matron. “He ran up and touched noses with Tom like a Feegee Islander,—are they the people that touch noses for ‘How do you do?’”.

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“Billy,” she called. Mrs. Bennett seemed to know exactly what to do. She took out and displayed to May Nell some of the generous gift of child’s wear sent by Mrs. Dorr from the wardrobe of the twins, placed the basket within the door, and introduced the children. Billy wondered what else might be in the basket that made it “act so heavy; it couldn’t be shoes.” He looked critically at May Nell’s small feet. But he was not to be hindered. “It’s only a scratch, mother; you can fuss it up all you want to later; but you mustn’t stop me now!” He pulled away from her and bounded up the path. As Moses clattered down stairs, Mrs. Wopp continued, “There is shore a thunderstorm comin’ up to-night. ’Pears to me I heerd like a roll of drums.”.