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“But the Lord hed his eye on Joner an’ put an orful wind on the sea.” The travellers passed on; he righted his wheel and began his slow, painful way home. It was still cloudy and the welcome darkness setting in early, shrouded him as he slipped down the least public streets and alleys to his own side gate. He put his wheel away, fed his chickens,—though they had gone to roost,—went to the cellar and brought meat and milk for dog and cats, and reconnoitred the way to the Fo’castle. A loud whisper from Pete Stolway disturbed the orator..

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“Not a bit!” His words were strangely impatient. “I’ve got to find her!” He started past them. “I’m sorry to make you late with your mowing, Billy, but I must have you go out to Mrs. Prettyman’s for some cream she promised me.” What if the Italians should be there? Impossible. Surely they would be on the mountain fighting fire. What if the door should be locked? The thought made him tremble, yet he hurried on and softly tried the handle. It would not open! Betty’s tears by now were flowing too fast for her to make an answer. She picked up the whimpering dog and proceeded to carry him home. From time to time Moses stroked the quivering head and murmured low phrases of comfort..