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I'm nearly nineteen, and I wanted to go as a stenographer, but they wouldn't consider me for a minute. Said I was too young." Sahwah threw out her hands in a tragic gesture and her brow darkened. "It's a shame," Hinpoha agreed sympathetically.
"Not even to save myself from being expelled," said Hinpoha steadfastly. And Nyoda, baffled, gave it up. But of one thing she was sure. Whatever silly thing Hinpoha had done that she was ashamed to confess, she had never in the world cut those wires. It was simply impossible for her to have done such a thing. Entirely convinced on this point, Nyoda went back to Mr.
The rest of us stuck to the ripe ones and we're all right." "Well, the unripe ones are sticking to me," groaned Hinpoha, unhappily. Mr. Bob laid his head on her knee with an air of sympathy. Where Hinpoha is concerned he never stops to think whether the sympathy is deserved or not.
Sahwah gave a little scream of laughter. "In-terned, not interred," she corrected. "I hope Veronica isn't ready to be buried yet." "Well, interned, then," answered Hinpoha, a little piqued at Sahwah's raillery. "You don't need to call the attention of the whole car to the fact that I made a little mistake. Did you see that officer over there turn around and look when you laughed?
But even at that they were pretty well tired when they reached the Point of Pines where they supposed the others would be waiting for them. But there was no glimpse of the Hares at the Point of Pines. "Where do you suppose they are?" asked Hinpoha, mystified. "Hiding, I suppose," said Sahwah wearily, sitting down in the soft grass. "Let's let them stay hidden until we get rested up.
Pearl only opened her eyes wider at Hinpoha's recital and answered with a sigh, "Oh, I never could do it!" The girls went on happily planning how they would take her back to Cleveland with them and make her one of the Winnebagos. They had to slow up the Striped Beetle along the road for a cow and a calf that were monopolizing the right of way and Hinpoha decided to take a picture of them.
"Why don't you speak for yourself, John?" shouted the other six girls, with one voice. "You don't need to ask Hinpoha who her favorite heroine is," said Migwan laughing. "Ever since I've known her she's read the story of Priscilla and John Alden at least once a week."
Hinpoha was still giggling about the man who thought he was seeing snakes and had forgotten all about poor Mr. Bob, who was still wrapped in his muffling blanket. A convulsive movement of the roll in her arms brought her back to earth and she undid the bundle in time to save him from being completely smothered. All the rest of the trip Mr.
And she looked at them with appealing helplessness in her big blue eyes. "Nonsense," said Hinpoha, "you can do anything you want to if you only think you can do it." And she told her a marvelous tale of how I earned the money to go to college when things seemed determined to go against me. Which is all perfectly nonsensical; the chance of earning money to go to college fell right into my lap.
An hour passed; two hours, but no gold-laden message came over the wire. Hinpoha had been chewing her fingers for the last hour. "Oh, please stop that," cried Gladys irritably, "you make me nervous. You remind me of a cannibal." "Isn't there a poem about 'My beautiful Cannibalee?" returned Hinpoha. "I'll go out and eat grass if that will make you feel any better," she continued.
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