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Mrs. Bennett put down the pan of batter-cake dough and gave him his good-morning kiss. His head was level with hers. “Thank you, my big boy. Mother will soon have a man to look to. Go in and get your breakfast; you must be nearly famished.” Moses returned to the Crump home with a prodigious appetite. “Now Mis’ Stephens, call the boys,” requested Mrs. Wopp who was the busiest of the group..

Mr. Keeler had finished the reading of the lesson, skipping most of the big words and laying particular stress on those he was sure of, and had stood up facing his class of boys, to ask them certain questions pertaining to the lesson, thereby bringing all whispered conversation to a halt. He cleared his throat and ran a critical eye down the line of upturned faces. When Mr. Keeler asked a question it was in a booming voice that carried from pulpit to ante-room of the building.I tried logging in using my phone number and I was supposed to get a verification code text,but didn't get it. I clicked resend a couple time, tried the "call me instead" option twice but didn't get a call either. the trouble shooting had no info on if the call me instead fails.There was "It is good of your Royal Highness," she exclaimed in softly modulated, respectful tones, uttered in a measure that gave them a courtier-like dignity, "to visit me in my loneliness and distress. The great Duke of Clarence, sir"—again she curtsied—"will ever be remembered with love and pride by a kingdom whose glory lies in the deeds of her sailors, for his devotion to the sea, to those who sail it, and who bleed for their country upon it."

“Yours truly, While Betty, mounted on a bench in the shed, was getting down her watering-can, Job, who during the afternoon had searched diligently but vainly for her, rounded the corner of the garden fence. He noted the open gate and sped towards it. As he entered the garden his eye fell on St. Elmo who stood absorbed and expectant. The turkey, his odd corner-wise gait accentuated by his anxiety of mind, rushed towards the child who at first did not notice his approach. But presently, turning around, St. Elmo beheld an apparently formidable assailant which by the most powerful flight of imagination could not be mistaken for a fairy. All escape by way of the gate was shut off by the intruder. St. Elmo’s plump legs, bare above his low socks, twinkled as he ran wildly towards the foot of the garden. Even the white chickens followed in a cackling bunch as they always did when Billy appeared at this hour, for it was almost feeding time. And the pigeons wheeled and whirred, lighting almost under foot only to be up and off again, a flash of white and gray. “Oh, Billy, how could you, when mother has so much to do?” It was his sister, Edith, who spoke, her sweet face clouded with rare disapproval. Yet she went on with the music lesson she was giving..