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Updated: May 13, 2025
An' I must have the football to play on the sands with, an' the punchball to practise boxin' on, an' I must have the dormouse, 'cause 'cause to feed him, an' I must have this box of things and this skin to show to folks I meet down at the seaside, 'cause they're int'restin'." But Mrs. Brown was firm, and William reluctantly yielded.
Upon his bed was a large pop-gun, a football, a dormouse in a cage, a punchball on a stand, a large box of "curios," and a buckskin which was his dearest possession and had been presented to him by an uncle from South Africa. Mrs. Brown sat down weakly on a chair. "You can't possibly take any of these things," she said faintly but firmly.
It needs exercise with a punchball or" she flashed a mischievous glance at the languid form beside her "a batch of bread dough." "Bread dough! Would that help it?" "Rather! So would sweeping, and scrubbing, and moving furniture about. But you're born to a life of ease, my dear, so those things are out of the question for you.
An' I've got a dormouse, an' a punchball, an' a box of things, an' a football, but they wouldn't let me bring them," bitterly. "It's a lovely skin," said the little girl. "What's your name?" "William. What's yours?" "Peggy." "Well, let's be on a desert island, shall we? An' nothin' to eat nor anything, shall we? Come on." She nodded eagerly. "How lovely!"
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