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Updated: May 10, 2025
The Master put an end to the mystery, forthwith, by reaching deep into his overcoat's swollen pocket and fishing out a grayish golden ball of squirming fluff. This handful of liveliness he set gingerly on the veranda floor; where it revealed itself as an eight-weeks old collie pup.
But I say, it's tough in winter, Johnny, 'specially when your overcoat's at the tailor's, an' likely to stay there." "That's so, Dick. But I must be goin', or Mr. Taylor'll get somebody else to shine his boots." Johnny walked back to Nassau Street, while Dick kept on his way to Broadway. "That boy," soliloquized Dick, as Johnny took his departure, "aint got no ambition.
Isaiah looked at Crawford and then at her. "I should say you'd better go somewheres, both of you, and get dry," he said. "His overcoat's soakin' wet and your waist ain't much better. I I don't know what sort of of congratulations or or whatever they be I ought to say, but but I hope you'll be terrible happy, Mary-'Gusta." "Thank you, Isaiah," laughed Mary. "Yes, you're welcome.
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