\" \"Good night, Mom. You know—I wish I could roll my little body up small and squeeze it into your hand and grip your fingers upon it. "Now come along, Jack. "You are, Sir," thundered Jonathan; "and, unless you find him, you shan't hold your place a week. "Maybe he realized that he was slipping fast and thought a fine action might give him a hand-hold on life again. 1.
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