There was a strip of old rose brocade in the making that set an ache in the girl's heart for the want of it. “Is that so? Who says?” He demanded, his eyebrows arching as he looked at her with puerile glee. “Too late, my dear girl,” she exclaimed. When he said, “Let’s go and see the wart-hog,” she thought no one ever had had so quick a flow of good ideas as he; and when he explained that sugar and not buns was the talisman of popularity among the animals, she marvelled at his practical omniscience.
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