“Mother,” he resumed, “I know I must freeze to some sort of business, and that mighty soon, too. But a preacher—why, he can’t be like anybody. He never has any fun.”,
Her anxiety somewhat allayed for the moment, Mrs. Mifsud roused herself for the entertainment of her guests.,
“’Cause I love you, ’n’ I hope the edges’ll be all pink like my mornin’-glories.”.
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