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“Said so, but they’re late. We’ve got an addition, the little earthquake girl.” This last was a sibilant aside. When Moses, accompanied by his small attendant, returned to his unfinished task in the garden, he found Betty still at work. She was weeding the pansy bed. St. Elmo clapped his chubby hands in delight. “And I’m always going to be your little girl, too,” the child pleaded; “so Billy must be my papa’s little boy.”.
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Conrad
“Well, he ain’t dead; he’s alive and bully, with a wad that bulges. I’m going to take you to him.” Visitors! He saw them through the window. Every step was growing more painful,—he must get to his room. The space from the woodshed roof to the tower room, before so easily surmounted by a swinging jump, looked now as high and far as Mount Whitney. Back to the window he turned. The firelight was dancing on the walls. Sister Edith was talking gayly to neighbors who were standing near the door, and May Nell was snuggled beside his mother on the couch, the great yellow cat, or a part of him, sprawling on her small lap. “Billy, my little, little boy!” She lifted the tousled head and pressed her cheek close against his. To further impress the unsophisticated guest, a Latin Grammar was exhumed from a pile of books, and totally careless of how Moses was smarting under such an exhibition of scholarship, Clarence recited loudly “Amo, amas, amat.”.
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