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It was Mrs. Wopp’s voice. From her remarks one would gather that the rarest perfumes wafted on the winds invoked by Solomon could never seem so sweet to Woppian nostrils as the mingled odor of hay and freshly dug carrots.,“Well, he ain’t dead; he’s alive and bully, with a wad that bulges. I’m going to take you to him.”,There was room on the slip of paper for only this last item, so numerous had been the demands, during this busy day, on Mr. Wopp’s memory.,“Now, Pat, kin you tell me which was the best men, the ones that rowed reel hard to save Joner, or the ones that leaned back an’ didn’t care a strawr.”,Billy threw both arms around her and hugged her.,The child was gifted in this most elemental of the arts, and her histrionic ability carried along the interest of her listeners even when the printed matter on the back of the paper interfered with the clearness of the picture. Her imagination bolstered up the defects of dry facts.,‘Fix me the apple on his head’.”,“Maria, where is St. Elmo?” asked Mrs. Mifsud, as with flushed face she basted some fowls in the oven.,“Let him play to-day, mother,” she pleaded, when the two stepped into the hall; “he can be a boy only once.”,At this point Moses looked up from his plate and complained, “Mar, this piece o’ meat I got, is so tough it hurts yer eyes to look at it.”,“He was a real little cat Moses, wasn’t he? And you—you must be Pharaoh’s son instead of daughter.” The child laughed and clapped her hands.,“What happened to you, Billy?” she asked when he entered the kitchen. “For a second I was frightened when I went to wake you and found you gone.”.