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Slowly and grievedly he withdrew, passed to the sunny side of the house, reclined in the warm grass beside his wistful Duke, and presently sang again. "She's sweeter far than the flower I named her after, And the memery of her smile it haunts me YET! When in after years the moon is soffly beamun' And at eve I smell the smell of mignonette I will re-CALL that " "Pen-ROD!" Mr.
We're having lunch early just on your account, so you'll have plenty of time to be dressed for the pageant. Hurry!" There was silence in Penrod's aerie. "PEN-rod!" Mrs. Schofields voice sounded nearer, indicating a threatened approach. Penrod bestirred himself: he blew out the lantern, and shouted plaintively: "Well, ain't I coming fast's I can?"
As he wrote, his burden had grown lighter; thoughts of Mrs. Wilson, the wounded detective, and the silken moustached mule-driver, he had felt mysteriously relieved concerning the Child Sir Lancelot. Altogether he looked a better and a brighter boy. "Pen-ROD!" The rapt look faded slowly. He sighed, but moved not. "Penrod!
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