On a stool eight feet high sat a small boy in a faded blue cotton, his face like that of young Buddha. “I WILL be arrested! I WON’T go home!” the little old lady was screaming over and over again. Your reputation for hospitality would remain under a cloud though, for tea was distinctly mentioned. \" \"Nah, he's probably a cool guy, seems laid back enough. The next page was a drawing that she had made in pen and ink of his face, or what she had remembered of it.
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