In the evenings and for Saturday naps like today’s, Jack told his daughter Jo a story out of his head. This custom, begun when she was two, was itself now nearly two years old, and his head felt ɪn ði ˈiːvnɪŋz ænd fɔː ˈsætədeɪ næps laɪk təˈdeɪz , ʤæk təʊld hɪz ˈdɔːtə ʤəʊ ə ˈstɔːri aʊt ɒv hɪz hɛd . ðɪs ˈkʌstəm , bɪˈgʌn wɛn ʃiː wɒz tuː , wɒz ɪtˈsɛlf naʊ ˈnɪəli tuː jɪəz əʊld , ænd hɪz hɛd fɛlt empty. Each new story was a slight variation of a basic tale: a small Who is Jo? How creature, usually named Roger (Roger does she respond Fish, Roger Squirrel, Roger Chipmunk), had some problem and went with it to the wise old owl. The owl told him to go to the wizard, and the wizard performed a magic spell that solved the problem, demanding in payment a number...
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