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It was Saturday afternoon on a busy street in the city. Moses Wopp and Clarence Crump, at whose home the former was spending the week end, were on their way to the skating-rink. If they had wanted to skate there, the streets would have accommodated them with a sufficiently smooth surface, as an early frost had rimed the pavement. When the program was over Moses noticed enviously that Betty was so close to the orchestra that her ear was almost in the trombone. “Oh, Mr. Sheriff, you won’t send me off now, will you, when the business is just beginning?”.
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kez_ h (Kez_h)
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Conrad
“Giving music lessons isn’t work. I’d love to do that.” In the Crump household, Clarence stood for all that was brilliant and intellectual, while Isobel stood for all that was fairy-like and charming. Moses felt himself a cipher, of no account whatever, in this wonderful home. He would need an extra administration of sympathy from Betty on his return. He thought at that moment very tenderly of the great brown eyes that “looked like they loved everybody.” Norah clutched a fat smiling doll in one arm. As the result of a puncture from a nail in the fence the doll was bleeding sawdust badly at the knee. However a surgical operation with needle and thread would restore health, and Norah stanched the wound with her pinafore and prepared to enjoy life to the full. The doll continued to smile gaily as though Spartan sawdust ran in her veins. “Wisht I hed a chance to holler into one of them brass dinner-horns, too,” he grumbled..
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