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A Girl of the Limberlost - Gene Stratton-Porter - Bog

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WHEREIN ELNORA GOES TO HIGH SCHOOL AND LEARNS MANY LESSONS NOT FOUND IN HER BOOKS "Elnora Comstock, have you lost your senses?" demanded the angry voice of Katharine Comstock while she glared at her daughter. "Why mother!" faltered the girl. "Don't you 'why mother' me!" cried Mrs. Comstock. "You know very well what I mean. You've given me no peace until you've had your way about this going to school business; I've fixed you good enough, and you're ready to start. But no child of mine walks the streets of Onabasha looking like a play-actress woman. You wet your hair and comb it down modest and decent and then be off, or you'll have no time to find where you belong." Elnora gave one despairing glance at the white face, framed in a most becoming riot of reddish-brown hair, which she saw in the little kitchen mirror. Then she untied the narrow black ribbon, wet the comb and plastered the waving curls close to her head, bound them fast, pinned on the skimpy black hat and opened the back door. "You've gone so plumb daffy you are forgetting your dinner," jeered her mother. "I don't want anything to eat," replied Elnora.

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  • Sprog:
  • Engelsk
  • ISBN:
  • 9781544281452
  • Indbinding:
  • Paperback
  • Sideantal:
  • 324
  • Udgivet:
  • 25. marts 2017
  • Størrelse:
  • 152x229x17 mm.
  • Vægt:
  • 435 g.
  • 8-11 hverdage.
  • 12. december 2024
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Forlænget returret til d. 31. januar 2025

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Beskrivelse af A Girl of the Limberlost

WHEREIN ELNORA GOES TO HIGH SCHOOL AND LEARNS MANY LESSONS NOT FOUND IN HER BOOKS "Elnora Comstock, have you lost your senses?" demanded the angry voice of Katharine Comstock while she glared at her daughter. "Why mother!" faltered the girl. "Don't you 'why mother' me!" cried Mrs. Comstock. "You know very well what I mean. You've given me no peace until you've had your way about this going to school business; I've fixed you good enough, and you're ready to start. But no child of mine walks the streets of Onabasha looking like a play-actress woman. You wet your hair and comb it down modest and decent and then be off, or you'll have no time to find where you belong." Elnora gave one despairing glance at the white face, framed in a most becoming riot of reddish-brown hair, which she saw in the little kitchen mirror. Then she untied the narrow black ribbon, wet the comb and plastered the waving curls close to her head, bound them fast, pinned on the skimpy black hat and opened the back door. "You've gone so plumb daffy you are forgetting your dinner," jeered her mother. "I don't want anything to eat," replied Elnora.

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