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For that was just the way the trouble began. He had been walking on his tallest stilts the whole afternoon—the stilts that were exactly, to the dot, one yard fifteen inches and a half tall—and then had sat himself on the fence along the back alley. He was facing the yard, with his back toward the alley, and that disgusting Olsen boy came past and gave him a dig in the back with that sharp stick. Just think of it! Wouldn’t anybody say it was unbearable? “Good-by, little Johnny Blossom, and thanks for the pleasure you have given us.” “I’m mighty glad of that,” said Whitney. “But go on; I won’t interrupt any more.”.

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Once upon a time there was a woodcutter and his wife who had seven children, all boys. The eldest was but ten years old, and the youngest only seven. People wondered that the woodcutter had so many children so near in age, but the fact was, that several of them were twins. He and his wife were very poor, and their seven children were a great burden to them, as not one of them was yet able to earn his livelihood. What troubled them still more was, that the youngest was very delicate, and seldom spoke, which they considered a proof of stupidity rather than of good sense. He was very diminutive, and, when first born, scarcely bigger than one's thumb, and so they called him Little Thumbling. A moment later Jerry had slipped out of the open space into the underbrush directly behind the side of the tower to which Bob was clinging. For a long moment Bob held his breath, fearing that Jerry might turn and see his dark form making an unaccustomed blot against the iron work. But as the cracklings of the bushes died away, he realized that Jerry’s one desire was to get as far away as possible in the shortest space of time. And spread the blast of Desolation wide. “I think you may keep the report,” said the Principal at last. “For you will surely not do anything of the kind again, Johnny Blossom.”.