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Anson, striving to keep his head above a shiny collar, about which was twisted a flaming red tie, was just issuing from the stairs. His mother opened her hand to display her gold piece, then closed it again. "You go right back upstairs and take off Willium's collar and tie," she commanded. "But you don't say you were paid to do so," answered Greyquill. "But we can't go now. I dassent leave them preserves. If I do Ma'll skin me. Anyways, ain't we goin' to let Elgin an' Fatty in on it, Bill?".
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Conrad
Billy was standing up now, his perplexed face turned questioningly on his chums. That night as he was undressing for bed Mrs. Wilson came softly up the stairs, a tumbler half filled with a smoky liquid in one hand, a black strap in the other. He drew her a little further among the pines and they peered out to see Croaker alight on the broken-backed ridge pole of the log hut. Nobody stood. Anson was on the point of jumping to his feet and telling who had brought the sulphur into the room but, on second thought, sat still. The teacher had asked who had put it in the stove. Certainly it had not been Fatty Watland, because he had gone on an errand for the teacher long before the fire was started..
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