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"Where's the rest of the girls?" "They've all blew up to the house with Myrt," said Mrs. Povey, staring blankly at Emeline. "But say, ain't you going, dear?" "Wait till I get my dress on, and we'll talk it over while I hook up," Emeline said, disappearing again. She did not glance at George. "Myrt's in a new show, and a few of us girls are going to see that she gets a hand," Mrs. Povey said.
I suppose I am one of them that picked right; right as a girl with my disposition could ever pick. If I hadn't, believe me, eight hours for me behind the counter in preference to eating the rest of my breakfasts across from the wrong face. Sh-h-h, Freddie baby! Can't you see my back is breaking? Sh-h-h! Auntie Myrt's gone to nice matron for barley water.
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