Widow Stanwick has been dead for several years now, and her daughter recently sold the farm to some yuppies from Boston who only live there in the summers, but every once in a while I go and drive by the big red house and remember her wrinkled old face and the way she would smile when I would pull up in the driveway on my bicycle. After a while it got so I would try and finish the rest of the route early just so I could spend a few extra minutes with her, and she always had some kind of homemade snack for me and a new story to tell. Besides, it saved me from spending a fortune on junk food at Mr. Perry's!
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