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"Don't talk Latin to a fellow." "And you sounded as though you were using 'pig-Latin," laughed Amy. "You said we "strought' to see Mr. 'Stout'." "Oh! Jicksy! Did I?" exclaimed the boy. I'm always saying one thing and meaning another, aren't I? Is that a lapsus linguae? "It is in this case, Gummy. But go on do." "Well, Mr. Strout looks just like a piece of that green-speckled cheese Mr.
The neighbor woman's daughter, who had often shared the generous fruit of the annual tree at the farm-house, took secret satisfaction in the unlooked-for fall of the little girl's pride, and leaned to all sides to whisper. She even stretched in front of the little girl to tell it to a boy beyond. Not daring to speak plainly, she resorted to pig-Latin.
"Seegry," she cried, pulling at his coat, "shegry ain'tgry gotgry agry thinggry." But when the little girl, who knew pig-Latin in all its various dialects, turned angry, scornful eyes upon her, the neighbor woman's daughter sat up and her smile faded to a sickly blankness. Santa Claus was now almost at the end of his resources.
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