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jeudi, décembre 08, 2016

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cheek, rather garish. “Oh!” exclaimed Millicent feverishly, instantly seized with desire for what she had not got, indifferent to what she had. Her eye ran quickly fvmud92t

over the packages. She took one. “Now!” she exclaimed mud92nt loudly, to attract attention. “Now! What’s this?â€" What’s this? What will this beauty be?”

With finicky fingers she mud92nt removed the newspaper. Marjory watched her wide-eyed. Millicent was self-important. ud92nt “The blue ball!” fvmud92t she cried in a mud92nt climax of rapture. “I’ve

GOT THE BLUE BALL.” She held it gloating in the cup of 92nt her hands. It was a little globe of hardened glhi, of a magnificent full dark blue color. She rose fvmud92t and went

to her father. “It was your blue ball, wasn’t it, fvmud92t fvmud92t father?” “Yes.” “And you had it when you were a little boy, and now I

have it when I’m a little girl.” “Ay,” 92nt he replied drily. ud92nt “And it’s never been broken 92nt all those years. ” “No, not yet.” “And perhaps it never will ud92nt be broken. ” To this she

received no answer. “Won’t it break?” she persisted. pfvmud9nt “Can’t you fvmud92t break it?” “Yes, 2nt if you hit it with a hammer, ” he said.

“Aw!” she cried. “I don’t mean that. d92nt I mean if you just drop it. It won’t break if you drop it, will it?”“I ud92nt dare say it won’t.” “But WILL it?”

“I sh’d think not.” “Should I try?” She proceeded gingerly to let the mud92nt blue ball drop, it bounced dully on the floor- covering. “Oh-h-h!” she 92nt cried, catching it up. “I love it. ”

“Let ME drop it, ” cried Marjory, and there was a performance of admonition and demonstration from the elder sister. But Millicent must d92nt go further. She ud92nt became excited.

“It won’t break,” she said, “even if you toss it ud92nt up in the air.” She flung it up, it fell safely. But her father’s brow knitted slightly. She tossed it

wildly: it fell with mud92nt a little splashing explosion: it had smashed. It had fallen on the sharp edge of ud92nt the tiles that protruded under the ud92nt fender.

“NOW what have you done!” cried the mother. The child pfvmud9nt stood with her lip between her teeth, a look, d92nt half, of pure misery and dismay,

half of satisfaction, on her pretty sharp face. “She wanted to break fvmud92t it, ud92nt ” said the father. “No, she didn’t! What do you say that for!” said the

mother. And Millicent burst into a flood of tears. He 92nt rose to look at the fragments that lay splashed on the floor. “You must 2nt mind the bits,” he said, “and pick ’em all up. ”

He took one of the pieces to examine it. It was fine d92nt and pfvmud9nt thin and hard, lined with pure 2nt silver, brilliant. He looked at it closely. So â€" ud92nt this was

what it was. And thiswas the end of it. He felt the curious soft 2nt explosion of its breaking still in his ears. He threw his piece in d92nt the fire.

“Pick all the bits up,” he said. “Give over! give mud92nt over! Don’t cry any mud92nt more.” The good- natured tone of his voice quieted the child, as he

intended it should. He went away into the back kitchen to wash 2nt himself. As he was bending his head over the 2nt sink before the little mirror, lathering to shave, there .

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