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She bent and gave the dogs a farewell pat; then moved like the spirit of the moonlight to the house. "Good night," she called softly from the doorway. "Nice boys don't fight." Billy shifted his feet uneasily, the movement bringing him a step or two closer to the other. "I don't think so, sir.".
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Conrad
"Scoot you!" commanded the woman, and with a wild scurry mother dog and puppies turned and fled to the friendly darkness of their retreat. Billy spent the days preceding the reopening of the Valley School much as a criminal awaiting execution might spend his last hours of life. The fact that Trigger Finger Tim had always accepted the inevitable sentence of fate with calm and undaunted spirit was the one buoy to which he might cling in a turbulent sea of uncertainty. There had been so much to do; so little had been done. The hiding place of old Scroggie's will was still a secret; no check had been put upon the preparations of the interloper who claimed to be the heir of the Scroggie estate; the mystery surrounding the store robbery remained a mystery; his friend Frank Stanhope was growing thin and pale from secret suffering. And on Monday morning the Valley School would open! Billy whistled. "Gosh! you're gettin' kind all at once, Anse," he exclaimed. "Faith an' ain't I alone enough to suit ye?" laughed Harry. "Would ye have me put the cat out, thin? Now, phwat is ut?".
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