One peculiarity she did not fail to notice. \"Want your pencil back?\" She asked him warily, squinting. Her aunt was blandly amiable above a certain tremulous undertow, and talked as if to a caller about the alarming spread of marigolds that summer at the end of the garden, a sort of Yellow Peril to all the smaller hardy annuals, while her father brought some papers to table and presented himself as preoccupied with them. And now you must go back, take up your work and think all this over. "Mercy!" screamed Mrs. “You knew it,” he added, in her momentary silence. 97 “For what, kiddo?” Larry turned his head slightly to one side.
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