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Mrs. Wopp was too busy to eat breakfast in the orthodox fashion. She could be heard in the kitchen preparing for the trying ordeal of wash-day. Out in the yard the head of the house was busy feeding the fowl. “It’s time Billy was at home,” he heard his mother say as he opened her room door; and he stumbled on more hurriedly, across the bridge—at last, the Fo’castle! “Now ef you would jist play ‘Home Sweet Home’ with variations, my dear, we’ll arterwards hev a game of crokinole. Crokinole is sich an amusin’ game.”.
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Conrad
Without further urging the child began to pick out with one finger a complicated melody which Mrs. Wopp assured the audience was “Dare to be a Daniel.” She stood at the end of the creaking wharf, and one little bare arm was lifted high. She held a small fruit jar filled with water and beet juice. It was awkward, but Billy had insisted on the fruit jar,—“So’s it will be sure to break; it’s the only kind of a bottle that always will break.” As Betty Wopp and Maria Mifsud, each holding a hand of St. Elmo, left the church, they were highly entertained by that small boy’s account of a “man named Jonah who had swallowed a dwate big fish called a whale.” “Flash has cake, Sir Thomas cheese,” Edith explained, giving each his coveted bit. They took the morsels from her fingers, ate them delicately, and mewed once. “That’s ‘Thank you,’” Edith interpreted..
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