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'It is now then my turn to be satisfied,' replied the marquis, 'and till I am, not one of you shall stir. Open me that door.'—'My lord!'—'Nay,' said the marquis, assuming a look of stern authority—'dispute not my commands. I am not to be trifled with.' On Sunday morning he was up before his room-mate, and when the latter came out the front door of the Quarter-house he was waiting for him. The speakers were sitting on a bench in the park which surrounds the old Virginia State House in Richmond. Father and son they were certainly—the likeness was unmistakable..

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Johnny Blossom, cap in hand, tiptoed with unusual care over the highly polished floor. First a gentle knock on Uncle’s door, then a louder one. Oh, dear! Aunt Grenertsen wasn’t comfortable to deal with—not a bit easy in fact—and never had been. Steve Whitney shook his head. “No—but I’ll tell you all about it as we go to the hotel. Grab your satchel and come along.” Once upon a time there was a woodcutter and his wife who had seven children, all boys. The eldest was but ten years old, and the youngest only seven. People wondered that the woodcutter had so many children so near in age, but the fact was, that several of them were twins. He and his wife were very poor, and their seven children were a great burden to them, as not one of them was yet able to earn his livelihood. What troubled them still more was, that the youngest was very delicate, and seldom spoke, which they considered a proof of stupidity rather than of good sense. He was very diminutive, and, when first born, scarcely bigger than one's thumb, and so they called him Little Thumbling..