” She looked down at the flowers, still in shock, and gently laid them over her arm like a Miss America candidate practicing a crowning ceremony at a pajama party. Through her door curtain she could see the light from the study lamp. ’ ‘Yes, but I do not like to scrub the floor and peel the vegetables and feed the pig. ” “Isn’t it. "Your son," answered the boy. ‘She is constantly thinking of you,’ I said. A moment more and he would have been crushed beneath the ponderous board, when a slight but strong arm arrested its descent. It was a gray day in the spring of 1910. An old man with a bent back who limped in, slow and stiff, leaning heavily on a cane.
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