“When did you get home last night, Lucy?” Cathy interrogated through a yawn. Jonathan caught her in his arms. " "You'd better take care of your mother's son instead," rejoined Blueskin. Supper was spaghetti and Italian sausage that night. "To-night it is their turn," said Jonathan, binding up his wounded fingers with a handkerchief. I’ll try to stay as long as I can.
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