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?©, Lyda Farrington

"We Ten Or, The Story of the Roses"

It seemed to us as if he were an
awful while getting well: long after he was able to be dressed, he had
to lie on the lounge for the greater part of every day,--the least
exertion used him up; and as for his work, Dr. Archard said he wasn't to
even _think_ of touching it. But at last--after changing the date
several times--a day was set for us to start. We were all delighted; we
_love_ to be at the Cottage. You see we have no lessons then, 'cause
Miss Marston goes away for her holidays, and we can be out of doors all
day long if we choose; papa doesn't mind as long as we're in time for
meals and looking clean and decent. There's a lovely cove near our
house,--it isn't deep or dangerous,--and there we go boating and
swimming; then there's fishing and crabbing, and drives about the
country in the big, rattly depot-wagon behind Pegasus,--that's our
horse, but he's an awful old slow-poke,--and rides on our donkey,
G. W. L. Spry. Oh, I tell you now, it's all just _splendid_! We
always hate to go back to the city.
Perhaps you think our donkey has a queer name. Most people do until we
explain. Well, his real name is George Washington Lafayette Spry,--so
the man said from whom papa bought him,--but that was such a mouthful
to say that Fee shortened it to G.


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