But ere the words could find utterance, her maternal tenderness overcame her indignation; and, sinking upon her knees, she extended her arms over her child. The girl stood with her hands behind her back, sulky, resolute, and intelligent, a strand of her black hair over one eye and looking more than usually delicate-featured, and more than ever like an obdurate child. “Who decorated the school like this?” She asked, peering up at the multicolored banners that hung everywhere. . I’m glad you could come. You aren’t afraid of thunder, are you?” He asked.
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