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The child seeing the twinkle in the older eyes, laughed aloud; and, wrapped in a voluminous apron, began the first task that had ever left its stain on her pretty fingers. From the waist down, Moses’ masculine and uncouth figure seemed to utter a dull protest against cut-me-downs. There are many forces in life that growing youths are not able to control. One of these, in the career of Moses, was the inexorable will of his mother that ordained homemade garments for his nether limbs. Made from his father’s discarded trousers of black and grey check, the new pair of abominations that adorned the legs of the youthful Wopp bore evidence to the unskilled fingers of the maker. They had the generous dimensions allowed by an imaginative and economical mind that could look into the future and could see legs lengthening and a general expansion. In fact, the coarse checked tweed fell in slight gathers, fore and aft. The dingy greenish-grey coat that slouched from Moses’ shoulders did not fail to heighten the effect, but seemed to set the costume in italics. “Shore nuff, what relationship do you s’pose they are all to each other now?”.

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‘The lighter pine trees overhead,’ “Don’t nobody start ‘Greenland Icy Mountings’ round here,” objected Moses. “I got orl the cool drarfts I need comin’ through this here hole in my shirt.” “Why, Buzz Lancaster, how did you get here?” Edith went back and steadied him over the uneven ground. “Phew! He smells of gasoline! Where has he been, do you suppose, mother?” “Why, Betty?”.