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And yet there was something sad, too, at Tellef’s house, for Tellef’s grandmother was blind. Just think! When she went out of doors she had to keep her hand on the house and walk that way, going round and round it; and that looked so queer. Sometimes she would sit right down on the grass and cry because she could not see; and somehow it seemed especially sad that she should cry with those sightless eyes. Johnny Blossom is not local but universal. Interest in him is not even limited to boys. When the book first appeared, a Norwegian reviewer wrote: For fully four days Johnny Blossom did not show himself inside of Aunt Grenertsen’s green-painted garden fence; but on the fifth day he thought it would be interesting after all to see whether the apples still hung on the tree. It seemed an age since he had looked at them, and it would be disappointing enough if they had been gathered..

Moses came to the kitchen door pushing an untemperamental-looking wheel-barrow with a leg in splints, that is, a leg of the vehicle. The barrow was filled with carrots. He was accompanied by Job and Henry. Behind him trooped a merry laughing group of expectant children.I tried logging in using my phone number and I was supposed to get a verification code text,but didn't get it. I clicked resend a couple time, tried the "call me instead" option twice but didn't get a call either. the trouble shooting had no info on if the call me instead fails.There was “By heck!” ejaculated Mr. Wopp who sat in the front seat beside his wife and Betty. Then he glanced hastily around to see if anyone had noticed his irreverent outburst. But no one had. They were all too intent on other matters.

“The apple boat, the one Mr. Lind and Mrs. Lind own, you know—that comes every autumn.” A moment later the boys were afloat. As they got near to the dark entrance they saw that the jagged rocks which fringed the arch came very near to the water. Finally it got too much for Bob and one day, taking his courage in both hands, he blurted forth, “Say, Whisk—Mr. Whitney, what’s gone wrong? Is it anything money won’t cure?” He held his breath awaiting the answer. It was a cheeky, nervy thing to do and if his boss did not take it the right way, he would be perfectly justified in sending him back to the horrible punishment of the draughting room. But he need not have worried. Mr. Whitney was too much of a big boy himself and had too much understanding not to realize that the question had been asked because anything that troubled him meant so much to the boy. “Set it down somewhere—my hands are wet. I never eat peppermint candy, but I thank you all the same. Is every one well at home?”.