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“Don’t sit there wool-gatherin’ anyways, Mose, or the moths’ll nest in yer head. Ef you carn’t sing in toon, you kin bring up a cup of tea fer Miss Gordon an’ Mr. Eliot, an’ don’t fergit Betty an’ yer Mar.” “You remember that story about a man who died for love of a girl because he knew he ought not to marry her? I thought that sort kind of noble, but you said there was nobler. Do you remember?” Half paralyzed with astonishment Billy went with the Doctor to the Sheriff’s office; but he was out and the deputy didn’t know when he would return; thought it might be within an hour or so. There was nothing to do but wait. Billy’s perplexed, baffled face touched the Doctor. His temples were already gray, but he had not forgotten how a boy feels..

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“Oh!” interposed Betty, “but they didn’t throw a sorft stone. I don’t b’lieve in sorft answers no more.” “Oh no Betty,” Moses tones were of an elder-brotherly authority, “yer li’l han’s aint meant fer sich servitood. I’d not stan’ by an’ see you do that.” With all his teasing at times, Moses adored his little foster-sister. He idealized her, and as Mrs. Wopp had often remarked, whenever Betty left his presence he saw her ascend into heaven in a “Whirlwin’ of fire, an’ go-cart of flame.” “Ah Miss Gordon, I see you love the music too,” he murmured in her ear. “Mary Ellen Smith; but my mama calls me May Nell; and she says—she says ‘kid’ is vulgar.” The last words were very shy..