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Johnny Blossom thrust his arm out fiercely and drew it slowly in again with his teeth set and his face getting very red. Ha! That was awfully good muscle there, just what muscle ought to be—rounding up in your arm and as hard as iron to feel of. How tired he had been of the other boys’ bragging about Tellef, too. It seemed as if they never talked of anything else. That was why he had been out of patience yesterday. Well, he had shown them, once for all, who was the strongest. “That must’ve been some job. I wish we had been here to do it, don’t you, Mr. Whitney?” “Did she have many apples?”.
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Conrad
“What for?” she asked. “Are you crazy? He rode only yesterday, John.” “The old dam can wait. You did a mighty fine thing for me and I want to know how you managed it.” At home that day they had been baking the Christmas cakes. Johnny Blossom had eaten not a little of the raw dough, and his sister Asta and he had made some cakes of remarkable shapes (though rather dingy from much handling), which they were allowed to bake..
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