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He had left his traps,—the fight had sent all else flying out of his mind. No matter. He could set them in some vineyard. Already the short grass on the hills was brown, and many of the wild flowers were past their blooming. The rabbits would be seeking the tender green of the vines, the purpling alfalfa, standing lush and sweet, ready for mowing. In the front seat of the Wallace school sat Mannel Rodd. Nell Gordon declared that he was the roundest object she had ever seen in human form. Though he had arrived at the mature age of five, he still retained that cherubic appearance which one sees in the paintings of old masters. His eyes were as round as the rather sparsely-located buttons on his shirt. His nose was a small round knob. When he opened his little round mouth to lubricate a squeaky slate pencil or perhaps to enunciate some such interesting statement as this, “The cat is on the mat,” he disclosed a row of pearly little teeth. Indeed his whole face would have been as round as the moon, were it not that his chin took an unexpected little saucer-like curve in the very middle of it. Billy beamed upon her. He adored her, as did every child in town..

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She turned back and rode up by his side. “Why shouldn’t a girl ride as fast as a boy?” She had a bright, frank face, and her brown eyes were as honest as they were beautiful. “We came—we came to bring these,” one ventured timidly, and lifted one end of the basket they carried between them. “Betty dimples in an’ out, like Mar’s dough,” he remarked, joyously, “she’s shore gittin’ better.” “I am not going to let you see any more compositions,” exclaimed Nell, “You are just making fun of my poor children.”.