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“Anyhow, Mar, that fust punkin pie Par got was a howlin’ success.” The quaint words seemed incongruous for so small a child, as did her self-control; and the accent on the last syllable of “mama” made her seem almost foreign to Billy. Yet he admired her anew as she tried to hold still her trembling lips, to restrain her tears; as she threw up her head, winked hard, and felt vainly for a handkerchief. “Oh, Betsey, give it to me!” he whispered in agony of soul. “Don’t let up’s long’s I live! Maybe I’ve killed her!”.
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kez_ h (Kez_h)
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🎁 Don't Miss Out on the Lucrative Welcome Bonus at the game bet cast! Register today to enjoy a 200% first deposit bonus, 100 free spins, and exclusive rewards for new players.I tried logging in using my phone number and I
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Conrad
The unstinted praise of the children in the operetta, the aftermath of buzz about the “show” at school,—this excitement lasted for a day or so; but on this lowering Sunday tired nature put in a claim for her own; and relaxed nerves were irritably near the surface. “You’ll have to break the record if you get here before noon.” “Rather like a dear little girl, that so will find her mother,” Mrs. Bennett reassured. As that energetic lady bustled about the kitchen the same evening setting the bread, her voice rose in a series of trills and other embellishments as she sang “Where is my wanderin’ boy to-night?”.
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