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“It’s time Billy was at home,” he heard his mother say as he opened her room door; and he stumbled on more hurriedly, across the bridge—at last, the Fo’castle! “To think you let that good-fer-nothin’ Ken Judson, meet our schoolmarm,” wailed Mrs. Wopp. “Why he is the most ungodly feller in town. His folks in England send him a lot of money so’s he will keep away from them, an’ he spends it all in drinkin’ an’ gamblin’.” Moses and Betty, hearing what promised to add spice to their evening, quickly entered the room. Mrs. Wopp who always had to know the joke, conspired at once to get rid of the youngsters..
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Conrad
“Oh, I s’pose she can, only a fellow doesn’t expect it of her. How came you out here? I thought you’d be watching for refugees.” “Oh!” interposed Betty, “but they didn’t throw a sorft stone. I don’t b’lieve in sorft answers no more.” It had stopped raining, but was still cloudy. This was the hour when Billy usually wheeled long miles by himself, dreaming dreams no one but a boy knows how to dream. Nothing short of a downpour ever hindered him; thus mother and sister knew it was genuine self-sacrifice that kept him beside the little girl through the long afternoon. As that energetic lady bustled about the kitchen the same evening setting the bread, her voice rose in a series of trills and other embellishments as she sang “Where is my wanderin’ boy to-night?”.
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