“Train? Is she going away?” The small girl’s face grew sorrowful.,
“Say, fellows, business now, and no questions asked. There’s a hitch on the stage. Storm, wrap that cloak round you—don’t wait for fixings—and get to your place in the wings, quick! When I say ‘Go,’ take Rain’s hand, crouch low, run to the centre, and between you yank that snow tank off the stage. Sabe?”,
Billy cuddled down in the low-growing manzanitas, whose screen was further thickened by a tangle of wild pea vines all a-bloom. Placing himself so that he could watch both the house and the man on the hill, he settled to await further disclosures.,
Mrs. Bennett wished May Nell to be in the open air as much as possible; and this meant a new experience for Billy, which he accepted with tolerable grace.
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“Now ef you would jist play ‘Home Sweet Home’ with variations, my dear, we’ll arterwards hev a game of crokinole. Crokinole is sich an amusin’ game.”,
“This is Evelyn Dorr, and Vilette, her sister,” Mrs. Bennett was saying.,
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.,
If he had been older he would have said he had “the blues.” Yet probably he would not have known that his mental—and physical—condition was a natural result of the long strain of previous weeks. All the children felt it. That morning the cousins, Clarence and Harry, who loved each other dearly, had come to blows in the Sunday School room before the teachers arrived, over the question of which one of them should marry Miss Edith. Clarence received a bloody scratch the full length of his palm from Harry’s Band of Mercy pin; while the careful parting disappeared from his own hair, and a red splotch marred the whiteness of his wide collar. No one can tell what further calamity might have happened had not the Twins opportunely arrived and questioned of the quarrel.
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Developer Response,
“I like ‘Ladybird,’ but not ‘bully,’” the little girl returned shyly.
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“Maria, where is St. Elmo?” asked Mrs. Mifsud, as with flushed face she basted some fowls in the oven.
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Jean, too, crossed the little bridge, climbed the fence, mounted her wheel, and rolled off down the dusty road.
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Halin-Chen Response,
>“Sure! Take care of the truck, will you?” He dropped his burdens to Jean’s willing hands, and darted forward.
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