Capitolo 26
cooking his/her feet of poor chilblainy in the oven, as if she was never able
you/he/she is thawed out.
"This summer the whole lottery is to go to the farm of Uncle Frank and
berries of choice, and it becomes strong. He rents dozens of women and children
during the season of fruit, and it told her/it Mrs. Grover it was that that them
all had need. Then their street goes to June, happy as the grigs and me I am able
now and then is able later to glance them, as I always go to the farm
in July. That is not some interesting, but it came to me, and
I did him/it, although only a small domestic job."
"I am sure the help of five poor souls it is an excellent job, and you are able
well is proud of him, Ida. Now I know why you would not go to matinees
with me, and he/she buys every beautiful thing that we have seen how You used to. The
pocket money it went for coal and food, and Your elaborate job was little
suits for these the alive dolls of Your. You the dear thing! how good person You
it was to cook, and grub, and it stings Your fingers they make rough, and it abandons
fun, for some job of kind!"
The cordial kiss of Maggie and the faces of his/her friends, touch of done Ida
what its humble assignment had its value in their eyes, as in her
just; and when the other ones had expressed their interest in his/her job,
all composed them to feel what Marion had to say.
"I am taking he/she takes care of me of a scarlet color runner,--a old poor man
cold-bitten, neglected thing; you/he/she is now transplanted, and doing
well, I am happy to says."
"What does it intend?" Her asked, while the rest seemed very curious.
Marion picked up a left point to fall in the great blue throws she was
working to sweater, and it continued, with a laughter in his/her eyes: The "my dears that
it is what we call the Messenger Body of the Soldiers, with their red berets
and busy legs that go to the trot every day. I have had one of them to take care of for,
and sumptuous once of him, I assure Him. But before I exult on
my success, I have to honestly confess my failures, for them they were sad