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Mrs. Wopp, after ascertaining that the little boy had received no bodily injury, stood mopping her heated face with the half-mended sock. She ceased operations to survey Betty more carefully. For five hundred dollars a week he had pranced to the admiring vaudeville audience; but once let the artist lay bare his soul in real music and whispering reaches his ear. But there was no use complaining, no one could understand his disgust. The man faced her abruptly. “The devil he knows!”.
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“Look he’s been here,” said Betty, pointing to a small footprint in the moist soil, “An’ he’s headed down the crick.” “It was all splendid; and, Billy, I never dreamed it was in you! Sister’s operetta would have been a failure if it hadn’t been for you.” The sun shone brightly and the atmosphere had that brilliant clarity, peculiar to the prairie. Several chattering magpies strutted on the grassplot between the house and the barn. Betty ran around to the further side of the house where lay the garden. Here Moses and his mother were already hard at work. It was a blessing that even her loyal soul must yield to nature’s balm of passing time; in wholesome companionship and the fragrant warmth of a country spring she somewhat forgot the grief that would otherwise have worn to death her frail little body..
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