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Mother banged at the door some time ago, and at last went away, mutering. I am afraid she is going to be petish. JANUARY 22ND. Father came home this morning, and things are looking up. Mother of course tackeled him first thing, and when he came upstairs I expected an awful time. But my father is a reel Person, so he only sat down on the bed, and said: "Well, chicken, so you're at it again!"
"Why, chicken!" said my father. And made me sit down on his knee. "Don't tell me that my bit of sunshine is behind a cloud!" "Behind a noze," I said, feebly. So he said he liked my noze, even although somwhat swolen, and he kissed it, and told me I was a little fool, and at last I saw he was about ready to be tackeled. So I observed: "Father, will you do me a faver?" "Sure," he said.
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