A doting uncle and aunt were taking a very small but very lively boy for a walk. They kept him between them in order to protect him against any danger. “Hullo, Bobby,” an acquaintance hailed the little fellow. “Is that your daddy and mamma?” “No,” retorted Bobby, “they’re my convoys!” I
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Wairarapa Times-Age, 29 January 1942, Page 3
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51Untitled Wairarapa Times-Age, 29 January 1942, Page 3
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