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Updated: June 25, 2025
An' I wants a turly headed doll that ties and suts her eyes when she does to seep, and wears a shash and a pairesol, and anodder bigger dolly to be her mam-ma and pank her when she's naughty, an' I wants an 'ittle fat-iron, an' a cookstove, an' wash-board. I'se dot a tub.
An' I wants some dishes an' a stenshun table, an' 'ittle bedstead, an' yuffled seets, an' pillars, an' blue silk kilt, an' ever so many sings which papa cannot buy, 'cause he hasn't dot the money. Vill you send them, Miss McDolly, pese, an' your likeness, too. I wants to see how you looks. My mam-ma is pretty, with black hair an' eyes, but she's awful old I dess. How old is you?
The next instant, the baby came flying straight into Pharaoh's face, and Mac fled, weeping, to his mother. "Mam-ma!" "Yes, Mac." "I'd be glad if I was dead." "Why, dear?" Hope looked startled. "'Cause peoples are happy when vey are up in ve sky." "But you can be happy here, Mac, if you are good," Hope said gently. "Yes; but I aren't happy; I are cross."
Without waiting to go through the usual short but complete process of wrinkling up his face, Jimmie let out a gorgeous bawl, which resembled the expression of a calf's deepest terror. As Johnson, bearing him, reeled into the smoke of the hall, he flung his arms about his neck and buried his face in the blanket. He called twice in muffled tones: "Mam-ma! Mam-ma!"
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