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A short, heavy set man stirred in his seat, and spoke without rising. "I'm only a poor workin'-man, without anythin' to give but the strength of my arm, but I'm willin' to go down and help them fishermen build their smoke-houses. I'm a pretty good carpenter, as you men know." Mrs. Wilson sank down on a chair. "Willium's right," she sighed. "Anson's mind is gettin' a little unbalanced. I'll have to put him on diet and feed him slippery-elm bark and alloways." "Now teacher," he said, dropping into a seat by the fire, "give us the news.".

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Billy laughed. "Come along as far as the clearin', Harry," he invited, "and play us a tune that'll cheer Maurice up, will you?" Maurice shook his head. "None of our gang 'ud take it," he said. "Likely some of them Sand-sharks." When Billy reached the loft, Anson was standing in the center of the room, smashing with clenched fists at the empty air. Billy sat down on his bed and grinned. "You will run straight into trouble, in spite of all I say, Anse," he said gently. "It's all your own fault; you will be a tattle-tale." He glanced at her closely, struck by the odd note in her voice. "He seems a manly little chap," he said. "I must get to know him better.".