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“Not in the house; in this room, yes.” “Have more toast Glory,” said Moses suddenly wakened. Unwrapping his leg from the rung of the chair, he reached across the table. “It’s a terrible disease, shorely,” interpolated Mrs. Wopp. “Ebenezer’s sisten-in-law’s cousin hed it, an’ fer a long time she was as yaller as a biled turnip. Her feelin’s was low, too, an’ she thort she was goin’ to die. She made her will, leavin’ her clothes an’ her cat, which was all she hed, to an ole men’s refuge. But lan’ sakes! she’s alive yet an’ peart as a robin. She got a set o’ false teeth an’ a switch jist larst month.”.

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“Sure! Take care of the truck, will you?” He dropped his burdens to Jean’s willing hands, and darted forward. “I believe you are becoming a confirmed westerner,” said Howard as they slowed down to a walk. “If you once drink slough water you know you will never like any other.” He looked at the beaming faces, at the beautiful table with Jean’s great pagoda cake in the centre, the dates, 1893-1906, in evergreen; at the flowers everywhere; at the dishes,—they usually ate from vine leaves at their out-of-door feasts,—at the paper napkins folded fantastically and hovering over the table like gay butterflies. His eloquent face told his surprise, his gratitude, his delight. He opened his mouth to speak some fitting word, but it wouldn’t come. He tried again, for he felt the occasion called for something formally appreciative. But only a whimsical idea flitted into his mind; and he sang back— “I’m chored from mornin’ till night, an’ arfter I go to sleep I do some more chorin’ jist to keep my hand in.” Moses was in a distinctly peevish mood..