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“Not yet, but they must all go to-night.” He looked at the beaming faces, at the beautiful table with Jean’s great pagoda cake in the centre, the dates, 1893-1906, in evergreen; at the flowers everywhere; at the dishes,—they usually ate from vine leaves at their out-of-door feasts,—at the paper napkins folded fantastically and hovering over the table like gay butterflies. His eloquent face told his surprise, his gratitude, his delight. He opened his mouth to speak some fitting word, but it wouldn’t come. He tried again, for he felt the occasion called for something formally appreciative. But only a whimsical idea flitted into his mind; and he sang back— 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.”.
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Conrad
“Shade of Beelzebub! Where did you spring from?” shouted the astonished man. “Didn’t know you had a family, Mr. Newman.” This was a poser for Mrs. Wopp, who was obliged to admit that her knowledge of biblical genealogy did not embrace the immediate relatives of Jonah. Fer our reapin’ bye ’n’ bye.”.
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