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“Doesn’t your father believe in the project?”,

First, however, the six perfect apples were laid carefully upon the porch steps.,

Jerry went on with his story. “She told me I ought to be ashamed of myself, big, husky boy that I was, roaming around doing no useful work. Wanted to know why I didn’t stay there and help with the harvest and work for my living. This wasn’t the first time that I had been handed out the same sort of chatter. But I fell for it this time—she was sort of homely and nice. The only thing I was afraid of was the Denver Kid. I knew if I didn’t go back with something to eat he would come and find me and lick the stuffing out of me. I told Mrs. Olson—that was her name—that I would have to go but that I’d come back that night. For a moment I don’t think she believed me, but at last she let me go, giving me quite a lot of grub.,

Really, it was rather pleasant to know your lessons well and rank with the good scholars. Now he should be able to crow over Asta. She often had to sit the whole afternoon with her fingers in her ears, mumbling and studying, and even then couldn’t get her lessons sometimes, and would cry; but, of course, she was only a girl.

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“Not yet,” was the crisp reply, “but Mr. Taylor wants to see you. Jerry King didn’t show up to-day either and he’s worried.”,

CHAPTER VIII Uncle Isaac’s Will,

The interest which these mysterious circumstances excited in the mind of Julia, had withdrawn her attention from a subject more dangerous to its peace. The image of Vereza, notwithstanding, would frequently intrude upon her fancy; and, awakening the recollection of happy emotions, would call forth a sigh which all her efforts could not suppress. She loved to indulge the melancholy of her heart in the solitude of the woods. One evening she took her lute to a favorite spot on the seashore, and resigning herself to a pleasing sadness, touched some sweet and plaintive airs. The purple flush of evening was diffused over the heavens. The sun, involved in clouds of splendid and innumerable hues, was setting o'er the distant waters, whose clear bosom glowed with rich reflection. The beauty of the scene, the soothing murmur of the high trees, waved by the light air which overshadowed her, and the soft shelling of the waves that flowed gently in upon the shores, insensibly sunk her mind into a state of repose. She touched the chords of her lute in sweet and wild melody, and sung the following ode:,

“Well, you’d better take it back, then,” he said. “I hain’t slept on nothin’ but the old earth here for forty year and I reckon I won’t sleep on nothin’ else until I sleep in it. This here thing ain’t goin’ to do me no good.”