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“That’s you, papa,” Clarence piped, as an anxious post warning. What if they should find him? Gee! Couldn’t a boy run faster than a man? Another sound banished these thoughts; wheels on the road, whose thick coat of dust almost hushed the ring of metal tires. A horseman before, and now a wagon; this was an unusual amount of travel for that lonely road. Mrs. Wopp was an incurable optimist, although the citadel of her optimism was being assailed. Turning her wrathful gaze from Moses, her eye lighted on the soiled pink hat and antimacassar still worn by Job. She burst into a hearty laugh and turned to Betty..
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Conrad
May Nell looked at him a minute before speaking. “You like doing things, but you don’t like work. Isn’t work doing things?” As Mrs. Wopp was preparing for bed that night, she recalled the sensation the sight of her reckless offspring had given her. When Moses, accompanied by his small attendant, returned to his unfinished task in the garden, he found Betty still at work. She was weeding the pansy bed. St. Elmo clapped his chubby hands in delight. “Not in the house; in this room, yes.”.
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