Nell looked toward the morning-glory garden and there she saw Betty kneeling in the moonlight. Jethro was sitting up on his hind legs beside the little figure, holding his paws before him. The moonlight fell on his penitential white body, on the stiff braids of the sorrowful and contrite Betty, and lighted up the bright yellow nasturtiums that filled the air with their pungent odor. The morning-glory leaves gleamed in the pure white light.,
“You’d best go an’ take her hoss, Moses,” directed Mr. Wopp. Then raising his voice he called, “Go right on into the house, Mis’ Mifsud. Lize has jist gone in from the garden.”,
Mr. Crump indulged in an unusual hobby, the collection of old musical instruments, and a motley group it was that Moses eyed with growing wonder.,
“La now! An’ why do you say that, my dear?” inquired Mrs. Wopp. “Set up straight, Moses, yer back looks like you was packin’ a sack of pertaters.”
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“Well?” she questioned.,
“Train? Is she going away?” The small girl’s face grew sorrowful.,
But on the whole Billy was proud. “The kids showed their pluck and stuck to their jobs,” he told his mother afterward. The White Elephant bellowed impressively in front of the postoffice; and Jimmy’s ponies never reared so gracefully as in front of the bank.,
Mrs. Bennett caught the despair in his words, and knew this could be no ordinary trouble to be petted away with a few caresses. Some crisis had come that must be wisely met. She entered, knelt by the bed, and put her arms around him. The spring starlight dimly outlined his head on the pillow but gave no hint of its bruises. “Billy, dear, nothing you can ever do will be bad enough to keep your mother away from you. What is it, my son?”
The solid rock of the mountain had been cut away from the rear of the house to form a natural, paved court. At the top was a small chicken coop, its wall flush with the wall of rock; and near it grew an oak sapling not larger than Billy’s arm.
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Betty had lent Moses fifteen cents of her Christmas money and was receiving two pink and white candy canes as her weekly dividend—“truly a lean annuitant.”
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w1dln-Wong,
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“Peter Stolway, what is a whale?”
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Balancing her voice on a very high note she popped her head through the dining-room door to speak to her husband. He was seated at the table reading “The Family Herald.” His straggling grey locks were disordered with his mental effort and formed a frieze of irregular design on his shining forehead. Mrs. Wopp’s voice, in a moment, was safe on terra firma.
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Halin-Chen Response,
>He arrived home Monday evening, and was received as though a visit of several months’ duration had torn him from the bosom of the family.
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