“Don’t sit there wool-gatherin’ anyways, Mose, or the moths’ll nest in yer head. Ef you carn’t sing in toon, you kin bring up a cup of tea fer Miss Gordon an’ Mr. Eliot, an’ don’t fergit Betty an’ yer Mar.”
hariom-lottery, A hand shot up at this point in the lesson and a thin voice piped, “Please, Mis’ Wopp, I was to the Fair last year.”
◆ Messages, Voice
hariom-lottery, Video
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hariom-lottery Billy hesitated a minute. The dim room, the wicked-looking red lights, Bess so stern and mysterious,—this might frighten the little girl. He ought to wait..
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