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There was nothing to use as kindling! He had only one match and a broken one at that. To make sure of his fire catching he ought to have paper or some substance equally easy to light. The wood was dry but it was too big to catch from one match.,

Finally, the King of the Peacocks did all in his power to atone for his conduct to the King and his brother, expressing the deepest regret at having treated them so badly. The nurse restored to Rosette all her beautiful clothes and the bushel of golden crowns, and the wedding festivities lasted a fortnight. Everyone was happy down to Fretillon, who ate nothing but partridge wings for the rest of his life.,

JOHNNY BLOSSOM was walking home from school. He carried his head high; his turned-up, freckled nose was held proudly in the air; his cap hung on the back of his head. Both hands were in his pockets, and his loud whistling waked the echoes as he strode through Jensen Alley. Perfectly splendid monthly report! Of course he knew it, word for word, and he said it over to himself again, as he had many times.,

A miller bequeathed to his three sons all he possessed of worldly goods, which consisted only of his Mill, his Ass, and his Cat. It did not take long to divide the property, and neither notary nor attorney was called in; they would soon have eaten up the poor little patrimony. The eldest son had the Mill; the second son, the Ass; and the youngest had nothing but the Cat.

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“He said—he said—that I must fill the station with honor; I didn’t understand exactly what that meant, but he said it because I am to have Kingthorpe. But I will not live there; they may all be sure of that.”,

It was a little farther to go home around past Aunt Grenertsen’s, but he didn’t mind that, for it was interesting to watch how the apples grew and to see whether Katrina had gathered any. But day after day everything remained exactly the same. There hung the apples still—the only change being that they grew riper and riper and more tempting. Aunt Grenertsen sat gazing out of her window from behind the plants, and old Katrina, grumpy as ever, stood at the kitchen window peering over the sash curtain, in exactly the same way every day.,

“That’s the story, Mr. Whitney,” he finished. “And as the dam is safe, everything seems to be all right only, only—” Here the boy’s voice broke—“the part about Jerry. I—I can’t understand how he could do it—how—how he could be a traitor to the Service—”,

At last he passed the sluice gates which marked the center of the dam. A few rods further on he knew he must climb up and look over.