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When stalls are being packed for departure, a naughty band of urchins will appear round the corner and call out: "Amager mother, Amager mo'er, Give us carrots from your store; You are so stout and roundabout, Please tell us if you find the door Too small to let you through!"
Rilla picked out her stitches and reflected that she hated sewing. Running the Junior Reds would be much more interesting. Mrs. Blythe was saying upstairs, "Susan, do you remember that first day Jem lifted up his little arms to me and called me 'mo'er' the very first word he ever tried to say?"
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