“Let me go, please!” he pleaded. “There’s a little girl, our refugee, over there, fainted, I think, perhaps—dead.”,
“An’ was the pore little feller lookin’ fer Joner?” said Mrs. Wopp. She spoke pityingly, yet she could not avoid some slight feeling of satisfaction over this evident tribute to her powers of biblical narrative.,
“I think the linin’ of Miss Gordon’s cloud needs polishin’ these days,” ventured Betty, shyly..
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