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“Right this way, ladies and gentlemen,” Bess called from the edge of the far terrace. “A dinner fit for the gods, ambrosia and nectar; gifts from Flora and Fornax! Come up to the garden of the gods and goddesses and feast together!” “Well, I’ll see,” replied Moses, but as he plunged his hand again into his pocket the cheerful jingle of coins stirred his masculine sense of ownership to profounder depths and he frowned and turned on his heel. “Anything else you can do better than a girl?” she jeered, good-naturedly..
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This conversation took place in Billy’s shop, a room adjoining the wood-house and given over to his use. Nothing short of the world in the second verse of Genesis was equal to the chaos of that place. Every conceivable scrap and job lot of “truck” was there in a jumbled heap; and Billy was never happier than when mussing it over in search of “material”; in greasy overalls and crownless hat, whistling merrily, bringing forth to substance and form the inventions of his busy brain. With a start and plunge the surprised horses, now thoroughly indignant, set off at a gallop. “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. Billy hesitated a minute. The dim room, the wicked-looking red lights, Bess so stern and mysterious,—this might frighten the little girl. He ought to wait..
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