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“S’tup,” he commanded. Jethro immediately sat up on his hind legs.,“This milk happens to be cream. I’ve been wondering what kind of a dessert will take all this.”,Still no St. Elmo. They proceeded a considerable distance down the creek.,“Billy, my little, little boy!” She lifted the tousled head and pressed her cheek close against his.,He sat by the table in his dressing-room with angry storm-swept countenance. He had been capturing loud plaudits with his rag-time, until intoxicated with success, he swept into a tornado of music by Moskowski. The applause died away; two ladies in the front row began chatting. The enraged artist jumped from the piano-stool, and shouting “Pigs!” raced from the platform.,“Can’t I see the faywies some time, Betty?” asked St. Elmo.,Orl the briers from the way.,“Well, now, is that so? It sounds to me like a furrin word,” returned Mrs. Wopp, who admired Mrs. Mifsud’s polished utterances, while by no means undervaluing her own rhetorical gifts.,And the shouts that greeted this fiat shook the old barn and made the hens in the hay cackle with fright.,Every back bent a little lower. Every face flushed a little rosier under its coat of grime. Praise from Billy was all they asked.,“But I don’t like them to do that, Billy. They ought to stay dead till the play is done. When I see them smiling I feel as if—just as I would if you made fun of me when I cried for my mama,—it takes all the true out of the play.”,“Moses, I hear yer Par comin’ with the hay,” announced Mrs. Wopp, suddenly. “You’ll hev to go help him with it.”.