Betty said her prayers that night before her cyclamen. It seemed to her a “mornin’-glory that had been growed by an angel, its petals sparkled so, an’ it smelled so pure.” She breathed very softly her thanksgiving, with a vague feeling that it had wings and could find its way better than she knew.
lotare, There was room on the slip of paper for only this last item, so numerous had been the demands, during this busy day, on Mr. Wopp’s memory.
◆ Messages, Voice
lotare, Video
lotare
Enjoy voice and video
lotare “Well, papa did. If he was alive he’d be giving it to me about now, good and plenty.”.
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