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What more might he do to hasten the Saturday work? He could not chop the kindling or fill the wood boxes. The weeding! It was behind. Both mother and sister had reminded him repeatedly, but he had forgotten. Only yesterday his sister had made tidy the flower beds that flanked the house; but the melons, the vegetables,—they were not done, and that would make no noise. The heat and smoke increased alarmingly as they went on, the man puffing at the boy’s pace. In and out, occasionally doubling and returning but never losing altitude, Billy crashed on. His slender body slipped through underbrush by way of small apertures that would not admit the man’s greater bulk; he had to break his way. The boy, also accustomed to running, climbing, had the advantage of better breath; though the other could not, Billy still held his mouth shut against the suffocating smoke, kept his smarting eyes partly closed. “No more, kitties; that’s all that is good for you. Go back to your chair.”.
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Conrad
but not the strong log house where——” He hesitated, and May Nell quoted on glibly, “All this turnin’ is good for the liver too you know,” she continued, as her son’s vinegary expression remained unaltered. “O Billy,” his mother laughed, “you need not decide to-night. Besides, it was all Bess’s nonsense. I can’t quite imagine my heedless boy in a pulpit.” “Not unless you wish to so much that you will not do anything else, Billy. The world needs preachers of the right kind sadly; and the right kind take up the calling reverently, though they know it will bring them small worldly return and much toil.”.
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