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“He didn’t come roun’ here, I kin tell you though,” joined in Mrs. Wopp, energetically. In speaking of Mr. Zelamba, her voice modulated harshly into a key of hyper-acidulated sharps. “I says to Miss Gordon, an’ she jined in with me, a piannerist may be well ’nough as an actor man, but when it comes to takin’ fer keeps, give me a real man.” After taking a deep breath she continued, “My, but he makes a heap of money an’ he loves it, too; but when he gits to be about forty, the lines in his fiz’ll be as tight as my clothes-rope arter a spell of rain.” When the two arrived, Nell Gordon was sitting with the sick child and crooning softly to her. Howard Eliot drew near, accidentally touching the firm round arm of Nell as he did so. Nell Gordon, ready for school, came into the kitchen and catching sight of Betty was seized with such uncontrollable mirth that she fled upstairs again..
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“I’m so sorry our afternoon has been spoiled,” she apologized. “While we wait we might as well have a cup of tea. Maria, rinse the silver teapot with boiling water.” She was happy and the time passed unnoticed till she had finished, and put the food back in the pail, when a queer, dizzy feeling came upon her and she sank down on one of the rugs. “Mose, hoi’ this benighted idjit of a jint till I drive a nail in the wall to wire it up,” called Mr. Wopp, thrusting a nail between his teeth and turning his back on his wife. “Ef you could only see how you look, Betty. You must hev some eyebrows somehow.”.
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