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Chapter 18 No.18
"My cake is dough."
-Shakespeare.
It was a warm afternoon late in June.
"There! I'm done with lessons for a while anyway, and glad of it too!" exclaimed Lulu Raymond, coming into Mrs. Scrimp's sitting-room and depositing her satchel of school-books upon the table.
"So am I, Lu, for now you'll have time to make that new dress for my doll
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