Betty said her prayers that night before her cyclamen. It seemed to her a “mornin’-glory that had been growed by an angel, its petals sparkled so, an’ it smelled so pure.” She breathed very softly her thanksgiving, with a vague feeling that it had wings and could find its way better than she knew.
cricketbetindia, “We do be glad to hev the new schoolmarm,” she announced, “you might of mentioned her, in yer blessin’, Ebenezer.”
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