Had he but dreamed on for an hour or so he would have returned, rested, refreshed, the cheery boy that helped to make the Bennett house a home. But a voice in the road above startled him. Only a word was spoken, a greeting; but it was surly and foreign, Italian.,
“Nothin’.”,
“But the girls and small fry can’t come in on that. Besides, that little city kid’ll be lonesome if I leave her.”.
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