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One day, her mother having baked some cakes, said to her, "Go and see how your grandmother is getting on, for I have been told she is ill; take her a cake and this little jar of butter." Whereupon Little Red Riding-Hood started off without delay towards the village in which her grandmother lived. On her way she had to pass through a wood, and there she met that sly old fellow, Mr Wolf, who felt that he should very much like to eat her up on the spot, but was afraid to do so, as there were woodcutters at hand in the forest. He asked her which way she was going, and the poor child, not knowing how dangerous it is to stop and listen to a wolf, answered, "I am going to see my grandmother, and am taking a cake and a little jar of butter, which my mother has sent her.",

Suppose, for instance, that he went to her house for a little call, as he often did, for Mother liked him to go—and Aunt Grenertsen sometimes had exceedingly good cakes which she called “half moons”; and just now there were these delicious ripe apples. During such calls she could be remarkably disagreeable. “What is the weather today?” she would say; and before he could answer, would add “Oh, well! No use asking you. Children never notice the weather.” Or, “What kind of fish is there nowadays at the wharf?—but you wouldn’t know that.” Or, “Who is to preach tomorrow? Well there! I wonder at my asking you.”,

“Except as a telescope. But at that it’s told us a lot. But that was a wonderful hunch of yours, Bob. I guess you must be a born engineer. To put it through we’d have to stop up the mouth of the tunnel into which the river runs. Then extra masonry work on top of the cliff would bring it up to the necessary height.”,

“I was hanging around the little town I was in, waiting for something to turn up. There was a project under way a few miles out and I hiked over to give it a look. The Chief caught me on the dam and thought I looked sort of hungry. Shipped me to the mess tent and afterwards put me to work. That’s all. Now I’m here. And I’ve told you my yarn,” said Jerry at last. “There’s not much to it, is there?”

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“Come right in, my boy.”,

Again it was very still.,

The boat scraped against the wharf.,

Johnny blinked at a great rate, and then looked straight at his mother. Yes, he had remembered it, that is to say, deep in, he had.