“You are not a baby, my son; you’ll soon be a man, and it’s time you did your own thinking. Don’t be late for dinner.”
dear.chart, But May Nell recovered almost before Mrs. Bennett had time to lift her. “I often do—do—faint,” she apologized, “it isn’t—isn’t ’t all dangerous.” She smiled at Mrs. Bennett, and the smile, the sweet, pale little face with her hair a shining golden halo around it, made of her an ethereal being almost unreal to the awestricken children. Yet she was soon merry again, apparently as well as ever.
◆ Messages, Voice
dear.chart, Video
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Enjoy voice and video
dear.chart “Now Mis’ Stephens, call the boys,” requested Mrs. Wopp who was the busiest of the group..
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