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Billy laughed. “Mixed again, mamma. This is Vilette,” he drew one bashful little girl nearer the stranger, “and this is Evelyn, Echo, we call her.” Betty picked him a small bouquet. She knew that in the child’s hot grasp the flowers would soon droop and she loved them so dearly that she grieved to see them wither and die. St. Elmo, however, was not satisfied. Jean’s face fell, and she didn’t look at Billy when she spoke. “My mother says I mustn’t wrestle any more.”.

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The band struck up and, intoxicated with the rhythm of the music, Moses skated as he had never done before. At first an object of amusement to the city boys he became the centre of an admiring throng. His spirals and figure eight’s were such as to call forth envious remarks. Even Clarence Egerton Crump thawed and admitted to several school mates that Moses Wopp was a pretty solid pal, only a bit gawky in his get-up. The sound was an ominous warning to Moses, to finish his breakfast with all possible speed. Billy heard the pitiful cries of the children, Evelyn’s the loudest, though Vilette was receiving the blows. Every drop of blood in his veins was a spark of fire. An unsuspected power came from somewhere, mysteriously. He felt himself lift, expand, grow strong enough to battle with an ox. He dropped his wheel, sprang upon Jimmy from behind, and bore him down. In an instant he had snatched the whip, broken it, and tossed the pieces into the field beyond. “You bully! You skunk! To horsewhip girls! Why don’t you take one of your own size?” Mrs. Williams was a round-faced dimpled persuasive lady; and Mrs. Wropp, being non-coax-proof and flattered by the request, consented..