Unmarked6698
- Flag inappropriate
- Show review history
Mrs. Wopp lurched heavily in her endeavor to calm the tumult of excited voices. Quiet was at length restored after several pupils had given thrilling accounts of catastrophes caused by windstorms. “He mustn’t git thinkin’ too much of hisself ’cause o’ what he did this day,” warned the boy’s mother. “Pride goes afore distruckshing, an’ a horty spirit afore a fall.” Betty staggered with her burden out into the garden to leave with her flowers the benediction of her presence and also to crave a few small favors for herself..
453 people found this
review helpful
kez_ h (Kez_h)
- Flag inappropriate
- Show review history
“Now ef you would jist play ‘Home Sweet Home’ with variations, my dear, we’ll arterwards hev a game of crokinole. Crokinole is sich an amusin’ game.”I tried logging in using my phone number and I
was supposed to get a verification code text,but didn't
get it. I clicked resend a couple time, tried the "call
me instead" option twice but didn't get a call
either. the trouble shooting had no info on if the call
me instead fails.There was
“Naw,” answered the boy, “What’d Mar say? she’d put a tin ear on me.”
658 people found this
review helpful
Conrad
Nero, nonchalantly fiddling a trifling accompaniment to the burning of Rome, had nothing on Moses, as that blithe-hearted boy whistled a joyous, albeit unmelodious, lilt to the devastation of Betty’s picture show box. She turned back and rode up by his side. “Why shouldn’t a girl ride as fast as a boy?” She had a bright, frank face, and her brown eyes were as honest as they were beautiful. “You bet!” Pretty endorsed, inelegantly. “Hold your grouch, Sour,” Harold expostulated..
298 people found this
review helpful