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“You’re George Rideout Smith’s kid, ain’t you?”,
Zalhambra was a vaudeville artist. His was the star act on each bill. He was undeniably a genius; it needed but a few bars of fortissimo plus crescendo to realize that he was a virtuoso of the first rank. When he played a Rag the audience shouted with delight; but when he sprinkled torrential cadenzas through the dizzying syncopation, like some mighty giant tossing meteors into a handful of fire-crackers, something like an electric shock stirred his hearers.,
“That’s Flash; he always works for his breakfast,” Billy pompously approved.,
“That ole bantam has shore got some speeditood,” reflected Moses, in gasps, as he made several futile plunges for Tillie.
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It was too bad! There could be no show in the barn. But the band was still lusty, the trick ponies remained, the boys and girls were eager to talk it over, and—the procession had been a success!,
“Murder! Murder!” he shouted with all his strength; and his boy’s voice reached far up and down the lonely distances.,
Moses capitalized his bulk to effectively fill the large chair into which he sank. He surveyed with approval the new trousers presented to him by Miss Gordon, and tried to blot from his mind the ignominy that had attended the wearing of the ill-fitting pair. Those discarded checked monstrosities languished under Moses’ bed in close consultation with a pair of decrepit and muddy shoes. It was so sweet to the boy to see signs of convalescence in Betty that he took great comfort in just gazing on her pale face with its wisps of fair hair across the forehead. He summed up his general attitude to life by whispering to himself, “I don’t give a doughnut fer orl the check pants in Alberta.”,
At this moment a wild whoop was heard, and through the open door Moses could be seen dashing out of the corral gate on his cow-pony.
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Developer Response,
“Why, Billy, what has happened to make you think so?”
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uzhe8-Wong,
It’s a Quan-Yuan
CHAPTER V THE FAIR ELLEN
y88zn-Xu,
Bingbing-Li
Betty, orphaned at the age of six, had been adopted by the kind-hearted Mrs. Wopp. The child found her chief joy in life, outside of Jethro, Nancy and Job, in a flower-bed. A small plot of ground had been allotted her for her own use, and there every spring for the last four years her precious flowers had bloomed and had filled her eyes with brightness and her soul with gladness. Morning-glories and nasturtiums were the surest to bloom. They climbed the strings so gracefully and turned the old weather-beaten fence where they grew into a tapestry of gorgeous dyes.
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Halin-Chen Response,
>“Why, Billy, what has happened to make you think so?”
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