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Billy turned the bulky papers over and over as if to gather some hint of their meaning from fold and stiffness. “What is it, Mr. Smith?” he asked wonderingly. “La now! An’ why do you say that, my dear?” inquired Mrs. Wopp. “Set up straight, Moses, yer back looks like you was packin’ a sack of pertaters.” May Nell needed no second request to “catch the racket and bring it in.” She flew downstairs, and presently up again, arriving with a breathless story. “O Billy, the circus train’s wrecked! There won’t be any circus next week! Some of the animals are all dead, and the fire burned some— Oh, I can hear them scream now, can’t you?” She put her hands over her face and shivered..
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Conrad
Billy hid his wheel in the same tangle of rose vine, now all pink and fragrant with bloom, that had sheltered it that earlier Spring afternoon,—was it years ago? It seemed so. As he crept out of the brush and turned to the steep tangled mountain, he saw the haunted house, with the bare space in front. There were the two brothers fighting fiercely! “And Jean and Jimmy, too.” As that energetic lady bustled about the kitchen the same evening setting the bread, her voice rose in a series of trills and other embellishments as she sang “Where is my wanderin’ boy to-night?” “I b’lieve Moses’ll eat jelly-roll some day till he rolls up hisself. I’m orful hungry, can I hev some fresh bread?”.
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