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“Yes, I s’pose we can listen to you scramble up and down the piano keys all night, but if I do anything it’s another story.” Moses Wopp, sitting with Clarence Crump on a bench near the door had hitherto been enjoying himself hugely. Now fearing injury to his beloved dog he rushed boldly to the rescue. Clarence followed more slowly. It was but the work of a few moments to separate the combatants and remove them from the church. Jethro borne away to a safe distance in the arms of Moses still uttered occasional rumbling growls, each individual hair on his spine standing erect. Clarence kept a firm hold on Snappy’s collar. Al Newman took him by the arm, “We’ll have to leave for the show in eight minutes old boy, just a little funeral of your own now.”.

“Gee whiz, no!” the other cried. “I reckon Dad would set the dogs on the Chief Engineer from the dam. He hates him worse than poison.”I tried logging in using my phone number and I was supposed to get a verification code text,but didn't get it. I clicked resend a couple time, tried the "call me instead" option twice but didn't get a call either. the trouble shooting had no info on if the call me instead fails.There was “I live over the hill there,” answered the other boy. “Dad’s a stock raiser. You can see the house from the river after you get down a little further. I sneaked away from my old man this morning to see if I could get a few fish. They aren’t biting very good here, though,” he concluded. “I wish I had a boat, because I know of a peach of a place—”

A hand shot up at this point in the lesson and a thin voice piped, “Please, Mis’ Wopp, I was to the Fair last year.” A whoop startled her and she turned to see a handsome boy racing up on a brown pony, also carrying a basket. “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.” Through the Stygian darkness of the loft loomed the figure of Mrs. Wopp, a white apron of huge dimensions indicating her presence. She made as though to descend the ladder..