“There isn’t any Maskey’s any more,” May Nell mourned; “just ashes and old irons where used to be such oceans of goodies in such beautiful boxes and dishes.”,
“I want Howard Eliot,” she cried, “he can sing so lovely, an’ I want Miss Gordon, she’s so comfortin’.”,
“You and Edith are fairies,” he said when his mother came again to the room, “to rustle such pretty togs for the new sister in a night.” His mother was piling his plate again with griddle cakes..
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