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"No, my father isn't rich at all, Emily, and I don't have many things no, indeed," replied Miss Dimple, with a desire to plume herself on her poverty and privations. "My aunt 'Ria has two girls, but we don't, only our Norah; and mother never lets me put any nightly-blue sirreup on my hangerjif 'cept Sundays. I think we're pretty poor." Dotty meant all she said.
I was going to put some of my nightly blue sirreup on your hangerjif, and now I won't see if I do!" "I don't want anybody's sirup," retorted Johnny; "'tic'ly such a cross party's as you are." "Johnny Eastman, you just stop murdering me." "Murdering you?" "Yes; 'he that hateth his brother." "I'm not your brother, I should hope." "Well, a cousin's just as bad." "No, not half so bad.
He said he did not know what was in the bottle; he had sprinkled his cousin's handkerchief in sport. "She talks so much about her 'nightly blue sirreup," said he to his mother, "that I thought I would tease her a little speck." "I don't know but you have put her eyes out," said his mother, severely. "O, do you think so?" wailed Johnny. "O, don't say so, mother!"
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