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“We’ve just got time to make it,” said Jerry. “That was sent three days ago and right now Mr. Whitney ought to be pulling out of Kansas City. We’ll catch the local out and be there just before he arrives.” “You may be sure we can,” answered Johnny Blossom, with a very superior air. “What the dickens are you doing?” yelled the foreman of a surfacing gang, starting for the boy on a run. “Want to flood the works?”.
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Conrad
“No—are you really?” Uncle Isaac roused up. “No, no, my boy! Let go the lamp! Let go instantly!” But while remembering that we shall be none the worse tomorrow for having been happy today, we are not permitted to forget entirely the Blue-devil Sprite that awaits the dawn. The play-spell is over; the lights are out in Vanity Fair; and here in Mr. Dulac's drawing is the leader of our Christmas Chorus as he shuts up the box and the puppets—"for our play is played out." “Uncle Isaac has made you his chief heir. You are the owner of Kingthorpe, my boy.”.
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