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Updated: June 2, 2025
And then, with a quick memory of the note and of his anger: "Miss Bailey, who is this young man?" And Teacher, of whose hobbies Morris was one, answered warmly: "That is Morris Mogilewsky, the best of boys. He takes care of the gold-fish, and does all sorts of things for me. Don't you, dear?" "Teacher, yiss ma'an," Morris answered. "I'm lovin' much mit you.
For smoothly starched and green was her whole shirtwaist, and carefully tied and green was her neat stock. Eva whispered jubilantly to Morris Mogilewsky, and another rumour swept the ranks.
Brennan pere, but a commander cannot well accept the advice of his subordinates. But Nathan was once more beyond the power of speech, and it was Morris Mogilewsky who asked for and obtained permission to walk on God's green earth.
"Killed und chawed off of a horse," shrieked the comforting neighbours. "And are you his mother?" pursued Miss Bailey. "Yes ma'an," they all answered as before. "Very well, I think I can take you to see him. But not if you are going to be noisy." A stillness as of death settled upon Mrs. Mogilewsky as she sank down at Miss Bailey's feet in dumb appeal.
At a quarter before one on that day, while Morris Mogilewsky and Nathan Spiderwitz, Monitors of Gold-Fish and Window Boxes, were waiting dejectedly for the opening of the school doors and reflecting that they must inevitably find themselves supplanted in their sovereign's regard for Teacher, though an angel, was still a woman, and therefore sure to prefer gorgeously arrayed ministers there entered to them Patrick Brennan, fortified by the morning's devotion, and reacting sharply against the morning's restraint.
Teacher invested Morris Mogilewsky in the chair and the position of authority, sent Patrick for the janitor, and, strangely shaken, followed the Principal. "What is it?" she asked, miserably, when the door was closed. "What is the matter with that baby?" "Well," said the Principal kindly, "if you were more experienced you would be less shocked than I fear you are going to be.
They were Morris Mogilewsky, Prime Minister and Monitor of the Gold-Fish Bowl; Nathan Spiderwitz, Councillor of the Exchequer and Monitor of Window Boxes; and Patrick Brennan, Commander-in-Chief of the Forces and Leader of the Line. The members of this cabinet, finding themselves raised to such high places by the pleasure of their sovereign, kept watchful eyes upon her.
On an afternoon in the first week of February, Miss Bailey, Nathan Spiderwitz, and Morris Mogilewsky were busily putting Room 18 to rights, when a small boy, in an elaborate sailor costume, appeared before them. He was spotlessly clean and the handkerchief in the pocket of his blouse was dazzling in its white abundance.
Mogilewsky," began Miss Bailey, gently, "there is nothing you could say to her that would make her more sorry than she is. She is broken-hearted already, and if you don't stop talking like that you will make her cry. And then Morris would surely cry too; shouldn't you, dearie?" "Teacher, yiss ma'an," quavered Morris. "You!" groaned Mrs. Mogilewsky. "Be you Morris's teacher?
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