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Aunt Grenertsen had lived in the little house on King Street for an age, ever since he could remember; and everything she had was very old-fashioned. There was a cuckoo clock, and a blue glass jar with dried rose-leaves in; and on the window sill an old gray cat blinked and purred among the plants. “You’re crazy. That would take money. Besides it’s too risky for a tenderfoot.” “She had quite a good many—eight big beautiful apples—and six of them hadn’t the least speck of a bruise on them anywhere.”.
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Conrad
Yes, the apple boat. It was painted green as it had been last year; the sails were patched; the poorest apples lay in heaps on the deck, the medium sort were in bags, and the best apples were in baskets. In the midst of this tempting abundance Mrs. Lind, who was uncommonly stout, usually sat, knitting. When her husband was up in town delivering apples Mrs. Lind took care of the boat, the apples, and Nils and everything. Nils, their son, was more to look after than all the rest put together, for he was the worst scalawag to be found along the whole coast. “Dear, dear!” said Miss Melling. “I think you had better get out before we have an accident.” “Yes.” Johnny stared at his mother’s tear-stained face. Evening veil'd in dewy shades,.
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