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“Here, slow-pokes, drop yer carrots in this here bin.” He indicated an empty oat-bin. “Mebbe she’s all right,” admitted the boy. “Miss Gordon, with all his book larnin’ he knowed no more ’bout black-jack than I know ’bout divin’ fer pearls, and the Bullock boys thort he was no good anyhow, ef he couldn’t beat their Par at cards. So one mornin’ they met him as he was goin’ to school, an’ they give him a good beatin’ up, then flung him in Rodd’s creek to cool him, bein’ winter. He crawled outer the creek, Miss Gordon, an’ never went to the school no more. It shorely was a jedgement on him fer playin’ those wicked card games. Moses, parse the ketchup.”.
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🌐 Explore the Cyber Frontier, Claim Your Bounty Bug Bounty Rewards for Indian Tech Innovators! 💥I tried logging in using my phone number and I
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Conrad
“Yeh, Mar.” “She can’t, you know; she and sister have to work hard to make what we spend now. I don’t do half enough myself.” “Wot fer? You girls is alius thinkin’ o’ money.” Moses clinked the nickels in his pocket with the air of a Vanderfeller. Betty’s voice became wheedling. “Naw Nosey,” he retorted, “there ain’t no bun to break in two, the dorg is outside the bun already.”.
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