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Updated: May 8, 2025
Last evening, now, with that mob of friends and the family pawing at you and trying to cram-jam you back into the Endbury box and shut the lid down that was enough to kill anybody with a nerve in her body. What's the history of the morning? I hope you slept late." Lydia shook her head. "No; I was up ever so early.
The box was full—cram-jam full—of pennies; pennies so new that they looked like gold—pennies so many that they looked like a fortune. “Gracious, what pretty money!” Maida exclaimed. “There must be a million here.” “Five hundred,” Billy corrected her. He put some tiny cylindrical rolls of paper on the counter. Maida handled them curiously—they, too, were heavy. “Open them,” Billy commanded.
In Fair weather, when the sun had been up long enough to get a really good start, it was right warm, but in the shade it was cool, and nights and mornings there was a chill in the air that threatened worse things to come. The harvest is past, the summer is ended. Down cellar the swing-shelf is cram-jam full of jellyglasses, and jars of fruit.
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