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Updated: June 6, 2025
Charlie had come in after his lessons, the next morning, clasping a huge watermelon in his arms, and, without a word to Mrs. Pennypoker, he had carried it through to the kitchen. "Here, Janey," he called; "I'm awfully hungry, and if you'll cut this up for us to eat now, before lunch, I'll give you a quarter of it. You'd better do it, for it's the last one you'll get this year."
Everett, smiling at his cousin, in the hope of calming her disgust. "Yes; that is, if that's what you call it. The boys both have good voices, and it certainly won't hurt them any, for Mr. Nelson knows how to train them well." "Humph!" returned Mrs. Pennypoker uncompromisingly. "It's my belief that they'd much better go to hear good old Dr. Hornblower, and let this flummery alone.
Pennypoker, who was supposed to be temporarily filling his mother's place. At the petition for daily bread, Vic had stopped short. "Go on," said Mrs. Pennypoker, in slow, measured tones. Victor opened his eyes and glared at her with undevout opposition. "Don't want bread," he said firmly. "Vic likes biskies." "It means the same thing, Victor," answered Mrs. Pennypoker, in her hard voice.
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