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“You’re George Rideout Smith’s kid, ain’t you?” THE last week of school arrived. It was almost as good as a holiday, for those who had made the required percentage during the year were excused from examinations, and after roll call, released from attendance; and these included Billy and most of his cronies. “Oh, Mosey, she un’erstan’s everything, she’s jist wonderful.” Betty’s voice was positive..
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Conrad
“Three you should say. Don’t you live in the dreamland of music? Eat your own breakfast, or you’ll be late for the train.” Although the temptation to reckless haste was great, Betty resisted it. It was not long, however, before a pile of shining blue willow-ware was restored to its accustomed place on the oil-cloth-covered pantry shelves, and Betty, seizing her sunbonnet, hurried out of doors. Inside the church matters were beginning to resume a normal condition. But Mr. Wells still badly shaken and feeling unable to proceed announced, “My friends we will conclude our service with a hymn. Will some one suggest a suitable one.” “Well, time is near up younguns; has any one a question to arsk?”.
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