Her mother was betwixt and between, and her father the same; but Rosie was as thin as a yard of pump-water, and could—and did—eat like a beagle without ever putting-on an extra ounce. Maybe she was abusing her good-fortune.

He shimmied up the flagpole.

Fog cottoned the steep, wooded slopes on each side of the lake, and the air was chill and penetrating.

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