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“Let’s all go to the parlor, Mar, and hev some music. It isn’t every evenin’ we hev company,” said Mr. Wopp. Though these and similar remarks seemed rather personal no resentment was felt by anybody. “You and Edith are fairies,” he said when his mother came again to the room, “to rustle such pretty togs for the new sister in a night.” His mother was piling his plate again with griddle cakes..
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“And what’s the ‘chinning’ to be about?” she questioned, sitting on the bedside; “the fortune?” “She won’t do it; she said so before. She wants to be Alan-bane.” “Why, Buzz Lancaster, how did you get here?” Edith went back and steadied him over the uneven ground. “Phew! He smells of gasoline! Where has he been, do you suppose, mother?” “Moses, I hear yer Par comin’ with the hay,” announced Mrs. Wopp, suddenly. “You’ll hev to go help him with it.”.
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