Betty had a conviction, though an unspoken one, that Moses was the primary cause of Job’s infirmity. The slowest of a large family of striped fluffy turkeys to emerge from the shell, he had been assisted in his efforts by the impatient Moses. Betty felt sure that the clumsy fingers of the boy had ruined the little turkey’s eye. The accusation, however, was too dreadful to be put into words.,
“You’re George Rideout Smith’s kid, ain’t you?”,
“That’s good enough for me, then,” he said, sleepily. And no one ever heard him mention again his unexpected addition to the scene.,
Clarence had crossed the Pons Asinorum; a series of intoxicated circles, with sharp-cornered triangles piercing their fat sides, bore eloquent testimony to his faltering steps.
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As Moses clattered down stairs, Mrs. Wopp continued, “There is shore a thunderstorm comin’ up to-night. ’Pears to me I heerd like a roll of drums.”,
If he was more thoughtful, quiet, at home, his hours of play were more keenly enjoyed as they grew daily fewer. He had found a “dandy job” that would not take him away from home; he could still mow the lawn, and do the chores. He was glad now that he had learned various parts of the housework, for he was to be janitor and messenger at one of the banks, a fact to be told his mother as a surprise on the last day of school.,
Mrs. Wopp, as was usual at the morning meal, appeared with her greyish-red hair tortured with curl papers. After depositing the appetizing breakfast dish on the table she thrust her head out of a window and called lustily, “Come on Moses the perkelater’s perkin’ an’ the bacon’s sizzlin’ on the plate.”,
THE place Billy called the Fo’castle was a tiny room in the sloping windmill tower. It was level with the second floor of the house, and a narrow, railed bridge connected it with a door in his mother’s room. Under it was the above-ground cellar, overhead the big tank. Still higher whirled the great white wings that pumped the beauty-giving water to lawn and gardens.
“Oh Mosey,” cried Betty at the breakfast table, being first on the scene to arrange her flowers, “we’ll hev a spellin’ match to-day I bet.”
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Developer Response,
It was a blessing that even her loyal soul must yield to nature’s balm of passing time; in wholesome companionship and the fragrant warmth of a country spring she somewhat forgot the grief that would otherwise have worn to death her frail little body.
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0pkie-Wong,
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“Now then,
uopgi-Xu,
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“Howard Eliot may larf, but I think these writin’s is real clever.” Mrs. Wopp grew thoughtful, “Moses’ Aunt Lucindy’s cousin, by marriage, had talents fer literatoor. But the pore girl married an undertaker an’ she writ no more.”
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Halin-Chen Response,
>In the blessin’s of to-day,
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