“Now, Clarence, recite William Tell for us.” Mrs. Crump put her hand on her son’s shoulder and turned him away from the bookcase which had been serving as a screen for the boy’s laughing countenance, “You must help Moses enjoy his visit.”,
“Oh, Betsey, give it to me!” he whispered in agony of soul. “Don’t let up’s long’s I live! Maybe I’ve killed her!”,
“Maria, where is St. Elmo?” asked Mrs. Mifsud, as with flushed face she basted some fowls in the oven..
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