Put it down and stop being a divvy!
Her name was Mabel Hortense, and the children were very proud of having a cousin who lived in the city and was named Mabel Hortense. At Damsonfield Four Corners, where they lived, all the little girls were name Mary Jane or Sarah Ann or Lucy Maria, or, at the best, Hattie and Carrie; they had scarcely even heard so fine a name as Mabel Hortense.
It was written by a fellow named Hans S. Tommerholt, and I apologize to you all, but there's actually a slashy thing through the first o in his last name,
o
[…] a lame, imperfect Piece, rudely daub’d over with too little Reflection and too much haste.
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