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CHAPTER XVIII
WHEN THE CIKCUS CAME
I was going to school one dav, but was
pretty late in getting started. The trouble
was that our yellow hen, Valpurga, had been
sick, and since, of course, I couldn’t trust any
one else to attend to her, I had made myself
late.
When hens begin to mope, keeping still
under a bush, drawing their heads way down into
their feathers, and just rolling their eyes about,
that’s enough;—it is anvthing but pleasant
when it is a hen vou are fond of. That’s the
way Valpurga was behaving. I gave her
butter and pepper, for that is good for hens.
But it wasn’t about Valpurga I wanted to
tell. It was about the circus-riders being here.
The clock in the dining-room said five min-
utes of nine, and I hadn’t eaten my breakfast,
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