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He was not more inquisitive than other boys, yet the mystery, the many uncanny tales told of the old house, fired him with a desire to know its secrets. Long before he was born a murder had left its stain there. The owners, suspected but unconvicted, moved away; and for years the house stared vacantly at passers. The coming of the Italians had only increased its bad name. Late travellers on the lonely road declared that shadowy forms and flickering lights passed the lower windows and down into the cavernous basement; yet no sounds ever came from behind the barred doors. The boy gave her a squeeze that made her last words come in jerks. “That’s a mean trick to play on a fellow,—chuck such a responsibility on a twelve-year-old. Say I must or I mustn’t, mamma.” He caught her hand and gently tweaked her fingers. “I wonder who’ll buy this here quilt,” speculated Mrs. Wopp, as she bent over her task, “there’s shorely a great sight o’ work on it. As fer me, I aint got time to do much fancy work an’ I’d never git round to a job like this fer myself.”.
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Conrad
Vigorously cleaning up the still bewildered victim, Mrs. Wopp hurled fresh orders. Moses’ opinion, repressed, however, in his bursting bosom, was of a like complexion, only much more vivid. He was hesitating between the liquid verge of tears and the lambent verge of profane utterance. “Shame on you Moses, rampagin’ an’ bellerin’ there like a gang of coyotes,” remonstrated his mother. “He’s been pushin’ up the daisies fer thirty years, I ain’t goin’ to warble to please no tombstun.” Moses swung a ponderous foot to give emphasis to his decision..
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