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Betty and Maria, whose reviving interest in the quilt had drawn them from their play to the somewhat crowded parlor, now reported several vehicles to be in sight. They hastened with this information to Mrs. Mifsud in the kitchen, that important domain whence a savory odor had been issuing for some time. “Them critters has swore more than I ever heerd sence the ketchup bottle fomented an’ bust an’ splashed orl over Par’s shirt an’ trickled down his pants.” “Huh!” grunted Moses, “your ole turkey aint worth an eyestrain.”.
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Conrad
Billy heard the pitiful cries of the children, Evelyn’s the loudest, though Vilette was receiving the blows. Every drop of blood in his veins was a spark of fire. An unsuspected power came from somewhere, mysteriously. He felt himself lift, expand, grow strong enough to battle with an ox. He dropped his wheel, sprang upon Jimmy from behind, and bore him down. In an instant he had snatched the whip, broken it, and tossed the pieces into the field beyond. “You bully! You skunk! To horsewhip girls! Why don’t you take one of your own size?” Mr. Wopp and Moses, who had hurried to the upper storey to escape the recital of the ketchup episode, now came heavily down the stairs, their task at last finished. Was there to be another murder? Ought he to call? If he did wouldn’t they turn on him—kill him? No matter. Some one might be on the road and hear. And he could run pretty fast. Anyway he must risk it. Without further urging the child began to pick out with one finger a complicated melody which Mrs. Wopp assured the audience was “Dare to be a Daniel.”.
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