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Turn your steps—and check your ire, Heals and not wounds; does good; helps the needy. Johnny sat staring at his Uncle Isaac. Deep within his heart there lay a weight, a sadness. It was the thought of Tellef Olsen’s fishing rod that he had broken to smithereens—Tellef’s, who had to go fishing every day or his mother and the children would have nothing to eat; and of the jacket all split, too,—the only one Tellef had. “It was queer there weren’t more, but none of the apples would fall in the basket, and they would whack right down on the ground, and so they got bruised—and then we ate them, you see, Mother.”.

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Aunt Grenertsen was unusually disagreeable today. Not a word could he say about the apples, because he had so often before brought up that subject. The room was dark and empty; but the traces of blood were visible on the floor; and Julia, though ignorant of the particular apprehension of Hippolitus, almost swooned at the sight. On quitting the room, they wandered for some time among the ruins, without discovering any thing extraordinary, till, in passing under the arch-way by which Hippolitus had first entered the building, their footsteps returned a deep sound, which convinced them that the ground beneath was hollow. On close examination, they perceived by the light of their torch, a trapdoor, which with some difficulty they lifted, and discovered beneath a narrow flight of steps. They all descended into a low winding passage, where they had not been long, when they heard a trampling of horses above, and a loud and sudden uproar. At the far edge of a group stood Lars Berget, who swung his hat in the air and ventured a faint, “Hurrah!” No one joined in it, however, for they bethought them of Uncle Isaac. At the door he repeated his “thank you” as he bowed himself out..