Every summer, we ask Mr. Donovan to talk to him. He told us all kinds of stories that we liked to hear. Bt on (I heard he was ill.) When we found out that he had come back from the hospital, we went to see him at once. His speaker was removed. His voice came out like a whisper when he put his finger down his throat. We couldn't understand him, but we could see what he meant, even though his eyes were in his eyes. When We attended the funeral, we were scared because we didn't know if the family would welcome us to 17 when we arrived at Funer. The family greeted us kindly and said they were glad we had gone home. We weep and comfort the old Man of Donovan. That summer, Mr. Donovan's sister and I learned not to judge the heart until you knew it might just be a hidden treasure.
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