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The whistle shrilled up the narrow valley, echoing back and forth from the steep green hills that bounded it. “An’ was the pore little feller lookin’ fer Joner?” said Mrs. Wopp. She spoke pityingly, yet she could not avoid some slight feeling of satisfaction over this evident tribute to her powers of biblical narrative. “Oh go on Betty, a daddy-long-legs’d die of starvin’ on what you eat.”.
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Step into a world of wonder and enchantment at best plays in london guardian 2024. Let The Guardian be your guide to the most captivating plays in London, where each performance promises to be a memorable experience.I tried logging in using my phone number and I
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With a patient hand removin’ A tall, lean, loose-jointed, large-limbed man was enjoying the frosty air and walked briskly humming a gay tune. All at once he found his face upturned to the glorious blue sky and a youthful voice reached his ear, “Did you see the telegraph pole sail over that icy spot?” Then another voice equally youthful, but with a distinct absence of city polish, answered, “Betcher life I seen him, wouldn’t of missed it fer a punkin pie, he’s lookin’ fer gopher holes in the ground yet.” “You keep still, Betsey! I’m going to watch!” he exclaimed, as if some one had spoken. Mrs. Wopp’s eagle eye, again rested on the lowering face of her offspring..
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