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LITTLE by little they learned something of May Nell’s story. Her mother had intended to start for New York on the morning of the earthquake, having been called there by her own mother’s illness. Mrs. Smith, though held to the last by household business, had let her little daughter go to visit a widowed aunt and cousin, who lived in a down-town hotel, and who were to bring May Nell to meet her mother at the Ferry Building the next morning. But where at night had stood the hotel with its many human lives housed within, the next morning’s sunshine fell upon a heap of ruins burning fiercely. A stranger rescued May Nell, though her aunt and cousin had to be left behind, pinned to their fiery death. “Aw Mosey,” cried Betty, “give it to him in two pieces an’ make him twict as happy.” “The fairies might git cross,” countered Betty..
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Conrad
Betty had a conviction, though an unspoken one, that Moses was the primary cause of Job’s infirmity. The slowest of a large family of striped fluffy turkeys to emerge from the shell, he had been assisted in his efforts by the impatient Moses. Betty felt sure that the clumsy fingers of the boy had ruined the little turkey’s eye. The accusation, however, was too dreadful to be put into words. “Billy Boy, it’s fine! It’s splendid! But it’s so big I’m afraid Buzz will be scared.” “Of course they won’t be too tired! The kids have pluck.” Every back bent a little lower. Every face flushed a little rosier under its coat of grime. Praise from Billy was all they asked..
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