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"Good morning, Miss Acton! I am going over to my father's. Are you returning to Old Harbour House? If so, I hope you will allow me to do myself the pleasure of accompanying you as far." He waited for an hour but Anson did not come. How was he to know that Billy had undergone a change of heart? Had he not caught the cold glint in Billy's eyes, when he had sneered at him in the class? Previous experiences had taught him caution. He had watched his brother go out behind the wood-pile and had promptly made tracks in the opposite direction. Come, let us be glad—both togither, me lad—.
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Conrad
Erie clasped her hands in ecstasy at sight of the wild ducks. "Oh, aren't they lovely!" she cried. "Put them in the ice-house, Daddy, until Billy starts for home." His mother glared at him. "Humph!" she snorted, "you're bewitched yourself, you poor coward you! Now then, another word out o' you—and you get the strap. Ain't I told you, Anson, time and ag'in, that this dear crow has found old Scroggie's pile? You git up from this table to once; go out and stay within callin' distance; I'll want you back here presently." "What dye you want, boy?" Shipley's pipe was alight now and he peered down at Billy through the pungent smoke-wreaths. Come, it's me ears a glad ditty would hear—.
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