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“Why, ma, the children are quite respectable; I know all their mothers.” Buzz’s mamma looked a little mischievous. “Jethro barks with his mouth an’ smiles with his tail,” said Betty. But a different and sudden fear leaped in both hearts as they rounded the shoulder of the mountain. The air had rapidly grown more oppressive; now they knew the cause, the forest was on fire!.
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Conrad
“Yes—go on quick! Here come folks!” St. Elmo Mifsud, his angelic face framed in silky curls, now became the prey to the machinations of Pete Solway, who had eluded the vigilant eye of Mrs. Wopp during her dramatic recital. A roar of pain escaped the child as a sharp tweak was applied to his curls. Recalled to matters entirely mundane, the teacher administered severe reproof. Picking up a second paper at random, “This is a composition on Alfred the Great,” he explained. The pianist sat easily at the piano and began the Moskowski selection that had failed to create the expected furore in the afternoon. A cadenza that shivered down the spine like spray from a glacial torrent wakened the room. Then he plunged into the first theme. His small audience listened spell-bound. Betty’s eyes followed the fingers that leaped over the ivory keys like white flame. A subtle current began to play in the room. Steadily it grew in power. Magnetism to the nth degree was being generated. A tremendous chord brought the music to a close and the pianist to his feet. Something in Nell’s glance inspired him. He whirled about the room whistling and imitating some of the cadenzas and other passages from the selection just played. He gesticulated wildly with his hands, the passion for dramatic music oozing from his pores..
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