Excerpt from New Waggings of Old Tales
Oh, it’s you, is it? Said Hop O’ some what absently, spurning a three-legged stool across the room to where Barclay stood and motioning to him to be seated.
How did you guess? Asked Barclay, surprised at this sudden recognition.
I don’t know, replied Hop O’ My Thumb with charming naivete’. Because you look so like yourself, perhaps, or be cause you then he stopped and fondled his watch-chain nervously. It was evident that he could not think of any other rea son. Barclay felt his embarrassment com ing over him again, and inadvertently broke the end of his lead-pencil.
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