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“Pull it tighter.” “Come with me, Billy; I must wash up. I’ve had a dusty drive up Spring Mountain; you know the roads aren’t watered up there.” “To think you let that good-fer-nothin’ Ken Judson, meet our schoolmarm,” wailed Mrs. Wopp. “Why he is the most ungodly feller in town. His folks in England send him a lot of money so’s he will keep away from them, an’ he spends it all in drinkin’ an’ gamblin’.”.
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A hand shot up at this point in the lesson and a thin voice piped, “Please, Mis’ Wopp, I was to the Fair last year.” Vigorously cleaning up the still bewildered victim, Mrs. Wopp hurled fresh orders. CHAPTER I.—MRS. WOPP’S HOSPITALITY. What matter if the telegraph poles that were to be just twelve feet—that is, twelve inches—fell short or long sometimes..
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