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“Well I’m not going to stay an’ play kid games,” Jimmy retorted loftily, and turned away.,
“Don’t stan’ there fillin’ the doorway like a bung in a barrel, Moses,” reprimanded Mrs. Wopp. “That boy’s gone clean petrified. Go an’ fetch the lamp, it air giftin’ so dark I can’t tell which is Glory an’ which is Miss Gordon.”,
“Wot’s the use of livin’ if Betty grows them there wings they talk of?” he demanded of the fowl as they scurried from his path.,
“By heck! Flash is all right.”
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A liberal application of shoe paste furnished the unfortunate victim with a startling pair of jet-black eyebrows, nearly an inch in depth. Appalled at what he saw, Moses drew from his pocket a grimy handkerchief. Dampening one corner of it in his mouth, the most expeditious thing to do under the circumstances, he carefully wiped around the outside of these funereal bands, reducing them slightly in size but also straightening their edges.,
As she went about her work, Betty’s braids of fair hair tied with wisps of faded red ribbon stood out stiffly from her head. Her eyebrows were not quite grown in yet and she presented a comical appearance blinking in the sun as she regarded Moses who was helping her.,
In the midst of these reflections, the trombone player of the orchestra came to him.,
“What happened to you, Billy?” she asked when he entered the kitchen. “For a second I was frightened when I went to wake you and found you gone.”
Moses came bearing an achievement of spicy, opaque amber supported and surrounded by tantalizing, toast-brown crust. Before the expectant Mr. Wopp, however, had time to note these details, there was a quick rush of a small black and white object, a crash, some ear-splitting howls, as Moses, pie, Jethro, and one of Mrs. Wopp’s best blue dinner plates were precipitated against Mr. Wopp’s legs. Down his Sunday trousers meandered a yellow glacier which Mrs. Wopp regarded with dismay.
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Developer Response,
“I b’lieve Moses’ll eat jelly-roll some day till he rolls up hisself. I’m orful hungry, can I hev some fresh bread?”
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“Fer the love o’ Mike, kid, how did you git here?” said Moses, rousing the small sleeper. “Gosh, but yer face needs warshin’.”
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A crowd of smaller children momentarily increasing, capered about the sweating five. Max bounded over the high fence, breathless, fearing he would be late. Jean and Bess hurried down the hill, each telling the other she couldn’t spare the time for “just boys’ foolishness.” Jackson appeared on top of the south stone abutment, halting there till Billy’s hearty invitation brought him flying down into the inclosure.
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Halin-Chen Response,
>“Moses,” she directed, “git an empty apple-box fer the burnt orfferin’s.”
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