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Felicity looked out the window at the steeple of the First Congregational Church across the street from her house. It was early June, and, as is the case in Rhode

Island this time of year, fog had crept in from the bay and now lay like a thick woolly blanket over the roofs of Providence. The steeple of the old church disappeared into fog.

Great,” thought Felicity, “the first day of summer vacation and my thirteenth birthday and it’s wet and foggy.”

Felicity had been in a somewhat sour mood anyway upon learning that her mother and father had planned to leave for Cape Cod on Saturday. She would have to celebrate her birthday at her grandparents’ “cottage ” on the Cape, away from her friends. To make matters worse, there was nothing to do there.

Felicity pulled on her clothes, in the process disturbing the slumber of her cat, Marx, who was making himself quite comfortable on her jeans, which had been dumped on the floor last night.

Marx looked up at her and blinked his eyes before walking from the room.

Felicity took one more look out the window as she brushed her hair. “Well, at least the fog is lifting; perhaps it won’t be such a bad day after all,” she thought.

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