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It was evident that great care had been exercised over Betty’s gift. She exclaimed joyously over a Cyclamen, whose pale pink blooms brought the flush of delight to her cheeks; a bag of peppermint bulls’ eyes elicited a like degree of appreciation. “That’s good enough for me, then,” he said, sleepily. And no one ever heard him mention again his unexpected addition to the scene. The pictures that followed were of fairies and sprites irresistible to childish minds..

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“You’re George Rideout Smith’s kid, ain’t you?” May Nell was not taken to her father; he came to her. Edith’s pictures of the little girl fulfilled their mission; they met him as soon as he landed from South America. He had been a busy man during those few days; had found not only his child but his wife, ill in a country sanitarium; where, for weeks after the earthquake and fire had, she supposed, swallowed her little daughter, she lingered, praying only to die. Now with husband and child both saved to her, she was fast growing well; needed only their presence to complete her recovery. “All over the house does she put them?” the child asked after she had snipped a fragrant heap. “Wisht I hed a chance to holler into one of them brass dinner-horns, too,” he grumbled..