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EATING YOUR ICECREAM CONES TWICE * I must have been just eight years old, when I saw Wilbur eat his icecream twice. He was licking the last curl of his soft ice, his tongue moving in a methodical way, more as if he was finishing a boring task than enjoying himself. He gazed at the empty cone. A single line puckered his brows as if he was trying to do a particular hard sum. Suddenly ice filled the cone again, rising in a weird snakelike motion. I stared. It seemed like a neat trick at the time, but the whole world was filled with neat tricks, most of which I still had to learn. Hitting a ball all the way across the field or climbing to the top of oak in the backgarden were the important things right then. Wilbur was not much older than I, but already overtopping most of us by a full head. A hulking, taciturn boy, his replies most of the time a single grunt, it would have been no use to ask him how he did it. So I wondered |
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