“Sing something, Mar.” Betty’s plaintive voice broke the silence.,
Betty picked him a small bouquet. She knew that in the child’s hot grasp the flowers would soon droop and she loved them so dearly that she grieved to see them wither and die. St. Elmo, however, was not satisfied.,
“All this turnin’ is good for the liver too you know,” she continued, as her son’s vinegary expression remained unaltered..
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