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“Was it dark for Joner inside the whale?” asked Pete Stolway, who noted his father viewing him through the gaping curtain and wished to appear in earnest conversation with his instructor.,

“Run, Billy! You left the door open—she’ll get the dinner!” Mrs. Bennett cautioned, hurrying out herself to reckon the loss.,

Yet before one could think, almost before the paper had time to burn, Jimmy sprang to her, seized her in his arms, tearing at the shrivelling paper, and jumped far out over the flaming boat into a deep pool.,

The last act exhausted the possibilities of the theatre in light effects and sylvan scenery; and the curtain rose on a gorgeous scene. But oh, horror! In the middle of the stage the scene-shifters had left the ugly truck that moved Storm King’s reservoir of ice and snow. When used in previous acts, bed and wheels had been hidden by moss, the tank had been covered by his mantle, and the entire mechanism, moving as he moved, had seemed a part of himself. Now its secret was disclosed and it was ridiculous.

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Down the road came a democrat. In the front seat sat Mr. and Mrs. Wopp resplendent in Sunday attire and both wearing bouquets of bright nasturtiums. Behind them sat Moses and Betty also dressed in their best. Moses was cogitating, “Its a blessin’ Betty’s eyebrows hev growed out. She cut an orful figger without them.” Keeping pace with the democrat; but roving here and there in search of gophers ran Jethro enjoying himself mightily.,

“Try a mile with this can and see where you come out in the race.”,

“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.”,

“That big sand pile the kids made last week for a fort can be the Sierras, and we’ll tunnel, and have a loop, and—”