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Rinehart, Mary Roberts

"Bab"

At last, seeing no other way, I tried this, but failed.
"What for?" she said, in a suspicous way."
"I need it terrably, Hannah," I said.
"You'd ought to get it from your mother, then, Miss
Barbara. The last time I gave you some you paid it back in
postage stamps, and I haven't written a letter since. They're
all stuck together now, and a totle loss."
"Very well," I said, fridgidly. "But the next time you
break anything----"
"How much do you want?" she asked.
I took a quick look at her, and I saw at once that she had
desided to lend it to me and then run and tell mother,
beginning, "I think you'd ought to know, Mrs. Archibald----"
"Nothing doing, Hannah," I said, in a most dignafied
manner. "But I think you are an old Clam, and I don't mind
saying so."
I was now thrown on my own resourses, and very bitter. I
seemed to have no Friends, at a time when I needed them most,
when I was, as one may say, "standing with reluctent feet, where
the brook and river meet."
Tonight I am no longer sick of Life, as I was then. My
throws of anguish have departed.


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