“Why doesn’t the Gang come, mamma?” he asked, returning the kiss he knew was one ahead for his natal day.,
“What’s the matter, Billy? Why don’t you go and play? You surely deserve a fine holiday, my big, big son.” She put her arm around him tenderly; and he saw that she remembered. He would be thirteen to-morrow. He had been counting the days; but he thought mother and sister had been too busy to think of it. It was coming—to-morrow, Sunday! If he didn’t have a good time to-day it wouldn’t be any birthday at all.,
“Never min’, Pete, an’ thank you anyways, but sence the lesson’s a hull lot about the sea, I’ll jist write with blue chork.”.
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