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“It was queer there weren’t more, but none of the apples would fall in the basket, and they would whack right down on the ground, and so they got bruised—and then we ate them, you see, Mother.” That steals the sweetness from the shepherd's flute: “If we’ve got to use it, Jerry,” he suggested, “don’t you think you had better tell me something about it now while we’ve got a chance? Then I’ll be of more use when we get down to the canyon.”.

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“Now you shall hear!” shouted Johnny, dashing into the arbor. “Just think! I was put up on the library table, and all the people came and shook hands with me; old Rolfsen began it, and he made a kind of speech for me; and Lars Berget wanted to shout ‘Hurrah!’ when we drove out. And if all this isn’t true, you may chop my head off.” Johnny Blossom’s eyes shone. He was tremendously in earnest. Terror leads on their steps with madd'ning force, “You said you wanted to go there,” was the simple answer. In seeking a Souvenir of this Christmas season the ballad of "The Mahogany Tree" lends itself most felicitously to the present purpose which is to.