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"Well, here's the place to find 'em," asserted Tim. "I'm getting some. You always find angleworms where the ground's moist. They like it, because the rain comes down off the roof here. There you are, grab that fat fellow." The girl made a grab at a bit of the soft earth, where a worm was wriggling back into its hole.
Don't let it stiffen. You 'll be wanted again in half an hour." "What's the game like?" said The Maltese Cat. "Ground's like your shoe, except where they put too much water on it," said Kittiwynk. "Then it's slippery. Don't play in the centre. There's a bog there. I don't know how their next four are going to behave, but we kept the ball hanging, and made 'em lather for nothing. Who goes out?
"That's a dangerous thing to do." Chirpy Cricket smiled to himself. In a way Tommy Tree Cricket was queer. He always clung to trees and shrubs, claiming that it was much more healthful to live off the ground. But he was so pale that Chirpy Cricket was sure he was mistaken. "The ground's good enough for me," Chirpy told his cousin.
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