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Perhaps the fact that Mannel came from a home where Russian was the language in use and that he knew little English, accounted for his abnormal seriousness during school hours. He could not be absolutely sure what was being said or what might be done to him. Perhaps some cruel elder brother, before Mannel had even started his education, had explained to him in voluble Russian that dreadful pains and penalties were likely to follow the slightest deviation from the paths of virtue. Certain it is that he kept a close watch on the teacher, and that none of her slightest movements escaped him. Though his general appearance might cause mirth in others, he himself seldom smiled. Day by day he sat in his little front seat grasping slate and pencil in chubby hands, gazing earnestly at the sums on the blackboard as he copied them down. Afterward he worked these with fitting solemnity. To him they appeared to be of the greatest difficulty and of national importance. Sometimes he wrote endless rows of letters on his slate. Sometimes he made nondescript figures out of plasticine or drew patterns on his slate or counted beads. At other times, grievous to relate, when he felt sure the teacher was otherwise engaged and could not possibly see him, he drew fierce triangular cats with four or perhaps five stiff, geometrical legs and rampant tails.,

May Nell was not taken to her father; he came to her. Edith’s pictures of the little girl fulfilled their mission; they met him as soon as he landed from South America. He had been a busy man during those few days; had found not only his child but his wife, ill in a country sanitarium; where, for weeks after the earthquake and fire had, she supposed, swallowed her little daughter, she lingered, praying only to die. Now with husband and child both saved to her, she was fast growing well; needed only their presence to complete her recovery.,

But he was not to be hindered. “It’s only a scratch, mother; you can fuss it up all you want to later; but you mustn’t stop me now!” He pulled away from her and bounded up the path.,

“You never give my cats a chance,” Billy complained.

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He tried to hold it from falling, but could not. It seemed as if his arms would be pulled out of their sockets. It would fall short—he must hold on to it, not let it strike below, for the noise would betray them too soon; and—the men in the wagon were passing!,

It occurred to Mrs. Wopp that the object in question might have been a new kind of singing bird, but “least said, soonest mended.” She would ask Moses if Clarence had ever mentioned it, the very first chance she had. None of the other ladies present assayed to join in the conversation, so perhaps most of them also were mystified. Airs. Wopp looked hard at Nell Gordon. Of course she knew what Mrs. Mifsud meant, but she seemed completely absorbed in turning a difficult corner in the quilt. A welcome interruption occurred.,

Around the outside of the garden was a border of fragrant mignonette. Inside of this was another of white candytuft. This double wall encircled a splendid array of flowers. There were dwarf nasturtiums, red and yellow, a tangled mass of sweet peas clambering up a yard or two of chickenwire, bright marigolds and asters of various colors. Velvet pansies added their soft charms to the display. But most brilliant of all stood a few hollyhocks. Many of their kin had perished in a struggle against the fierce winds.,

“Don’t go off Mr. Potter’s land, will you, May Nell? The fenced part, I mean. Eat some lunch soon; Billy may be gone an hour longer. Good-bye. Don’t get too tired. I’ll send Clarence if I can find him.”