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“Anyhow, Mar, that fust punkin pie Par got was a howlin’ success.” St. Elmo Mifsud, his angelic face framed in silky curls, now became the prey to the machinations of Pete Solway, who had eluded the vigilant eye of Mrs. Wopp during her dramatic recital. A roar of pain escaped the child as a sharp tweak was applied to his curls. Recalled to matters entirely mundane, the teacher administered severe reproof. “Well I only go ’way about onct in a blue moon,” declared Mrs. Wopp, “an’ I feel so unsartin ’bout everything. Here we are a pack of Gadarene swine goin’ orff to a great city to eat husks I s’pose like the prodigal son. Never mind Ebenezer we’ll come back right glad I’ll bet to the fatted calf.” She pinched his ear in an elephantine playfulness as though he might be the fatted calf himself..
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New player? Grab our exclusive offer today: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
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Conrad
“Not yet, but they must all go to-night.” When Edith planned to turn her pupils’ recital into a great Spring Festival, for the benefit of the sufferers, all the town applauded, and asked how it could help. “Run, Billy! You left the door open—she’ll get the dinner!” Mrs. Bennett cautioned, hurrying out herself to reckon the loss. “You’re George Rideout Smith’s kid, ain’t you?”.
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