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“It’s pretty bad, the way you’ve ridden today,” said Lars Berget soberly, when Johnny Blossom came into the stable with Bob. “He is all used up, poor Bobby!”,

“Pooh! That’s nothing to do,” said Johnny Blossom.,

A plan had come to him in a flash. Whitney was needed and needed in a hurry. He was on the other side of the river valley at the head of the spillway. The opposite cableway tower over there was near this spot—if the buckets could go over, couldn’t he? He’d try anyway!,

"Grandmother, what long legs you have!"

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THE SLEEPING BEAUTY IN THE WOOD,

At home that day they had been baking the Christmas cakes. Johnny Blossom had eaten not a little of the raw dough, and his sister Asta and he had made some cakes of remarkable shapes (though rather dingy from much handling), which they were allowed to bake.,

“I don’t know. Come on and let’s see if it has gone around the bend. At that we’ll never be able to catch up with it unless it’s grounded somewheres.”,

Meanwhile a circumstance occurred which increased the general discord, and threatened Emilia with the loss of her last remaining comfort—the advice and consolation of Madame de Menon. The marchioness, whose passion for the Count de Vereza had at length yielded to absence, and the pressure of present circumstances, now bestowed her smiles upon a young Italian cavalier, a visitor at the castle, who possessed too much of the spirit of gallantry to permit a lady to languish in vain. The marquis, whose mind was occupied with other passions, was insensible to the misconduct of his wife, who at all times had the address to disguise her vices beneath the gloss of virtue and innocent freedom. The intrigue was discovered by madame, who, having one day left a book in the oak parlour, returned thither in search of it. As she opened the door of the apartment, she heard the voice of the cavalier in passionate exclamation; and on entering, discovered him rising in some confusion from the feet of the marchioness, who, darting at madame a look of severity, arose from her seat. Madame, shocked at what she had seen, instantly retired, and buried in her own bosom that secret, the discovery of which would most essentially have poisoned the peace of the marquis. The marchioness, who was a stranger to the generosity of sentiment which actuated Madame de Menon, doubted not that she would seize the moment of retaliation, and expose her conduct where most she dreaded it should be known. The consciousness of guilt tortured her with incessant fear of discovery, and from this period her whole attention was employed to dislodge from the castle the person to whom her character was committed. In this it was not difficult to succeed; for the delicacy of madame's feelings made her quick to perceive, and to withdraw from a treatment unsuitable to the natural dignity of her character. She therefore resolved to depart from the castle; but disdaining to take an advantage even over a successful enemy, she determined to be silent on that subject which would instantly have transferred the triumph from her adversary to herself. When the marquis, on hearing her determination to retire, earnestly enquired for the motive of her conduct, she forbore to acquaint him with the real one, and left him to incertitude and disappointment.