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A dull yellow glow from the kerosene lamp, placed by Moses on the bureau, lighted up the figure of Betty reclining on snowy pillows. On one side of her was seated Howard, his arm about the drowsy child. On the side of the bed, squarely seated on one of Mrs. Wopp’s texts worked into the patchwork quilt, was Nell, watching the little pallid face and trying to avoid the eyes of her silent lover. “Did Clarence show you the sights of the city this morning?” asked Mr. Crump, trying to repress a smile. “All ready?” cried Captain Billy. “Are you ready, Ladybird?”.
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“An orful good-natured tied-in-at-the-waist critter, aint it?” commented Moses. “Bring him here.” The man stepped out and laid his hand on a sapling that grew beside the Lodge. May Nell followed with the dog. What matter if the telegraph poles that were to be just twelve feet—that is, twelve inches—fell short or long sometimes. “Don’t Job look jist like Mariar Mifsud goin’ to meetin’,” gurgled Betty..
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