Block · one region of the page, as the scanner read it. It may hold a whole story, part of one, several, or an advertisement; stitching blocks into articles is the next step. Text is supplied OCR.
Page 7 · column 4 of 9 · from the scan, no model involved
He still wants to play with Tommy’s soldier like they used to.
She put her hands over her face and rubbed her eyes. Frank picked up the PUPP.V, toy soldier still in his mouth, and put him out in the hall. Staring at the door the bewildered puppy couldn’t understand why the boy was so thin and so very pale. All night he waited in the hall, waiting for the door to fly open and his master to trip out into the hall, waiting to jump into the boy’s arms, waiting to hear his voice. In the end, it wasn’t his master’s voice he heal'd, but Tommy’s mother’s, broken with sobs.
“Oh, Frank, why Tommy? Why my baby?” The parents stepped wearily into the hall and looked down at Scooter’s hopeful eyes.
“Poor thing, they were inseparable," said Frank as they walked away.
The next day Frank locked Scooter in the bedroom saying haltingly to his wife, “Don’t want him to. . . uh. . . well. . . disturb the services, don’t want him to chase the...hearse, y’know.”
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