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“I hope my breakfast won’t be quite so—” The disgusted artist got up and with a huge hand wiped his handkerchief across his perspiring brow. He was short and very thick set, with prominent forehead, bulging black eyes, coarse nose, thick red lips. “That’s no giant. She isn’t bigger’n a kid. Will she let you come to play? The Gang’s coming to-morrow.”.
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Outside of the flower garden proper and between it and the vegetables, were several rows of gay sunflowers. Mr. Wopp approved of these mightily, because the seeds were “sich grand feed for the chickings.” Betty looked on these gaudy sentinels with sorrowing pity, because they had not the daintiness of the other flowers. “No, we won’t!” came a dozen voices. As the party, now restored to composure, left the garden, Mrs. Mifsud remarked with her usual aptness, “I occasionally experience premonitions, Mrs. Wopp, that St. Elmo will some day attain celebrity as a clairvoyant.” At this juncture there was a knock at the door. It was Howard Eliot who had called for Nell..
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