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Ruth Fielding on Cliff Island - Or, The Old Hunter's Treasure Box by pseud. Alice B. Emerson
page 47 of 183 (25%)

"Then it's Heavy that takes up so much space in our room. She dwarfs
everything. However," said the red-haired girl, "you can have lots more
fun in here. Shove back everything against one wall, roll up the rugs, and
then we can dance."

"And have Picolet after us in a hurry," observed Helen, laughing.

"Barefoot dancing is still in vogue," retorted The Fox. "Helen can play
her violin."

"After retiring bell? No, thanks!" exclaimed Ruth's chum. "I am to stand
better in my classes this half than last spring or Monsieur Pa-_pa_ will
have something to say to me. He doesn't often preach; but that
black-haired brother of mine did better last term than I did. Can't have
that."

"They're awfully strict with the boys over at Seven Oaks," sighed Heavy,
who was chewing industriously as she talked, sitting cross-legged on the
floor.

"What are you eating, Heavy?" demanded Belle, suddenly.

"Some of those doughnut holes, I bet!" giggled Lluella. "They must be
awful filling, Heavy."

"Nothing _is_ filling," replied the stout girl. "Just think, almost the
whole universe is filled with just atmosphere--and your head, Lluella."

"That's not pretty, dear," remarked The Fox, pinching Heavy. "Don't be
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