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"I can think of nothing better than sulphur for poor Mr Eagle's feet. Here is a packet of it, enough, I believe, to enable him to walk in sulphur for quite a fortnight," said Miss Acton.,

Harry lifted the little tin box to his knees and opened it. From it he brought forth a conglomeration of articles. There were queer little disks of hammered brass and copper, an egg-shaped object that sparkled like crystal in the lamplight, a crotch-shaped branch of a tree. As he handled those objects tenderly the old man's face was tense and he mumbled something entirely meaningless to the watchers. Finally, with an exclamation of triumph, he brought forth a piece of metal the size and shape of an ordinary lead pencil.,

Mr Lawrence made a step and quickly picked up the knife and drew back again, conscious that the fixed gaze will often awake a slumberer even from deep repose. He stood close to the door viewing this picture of a sleeping girl in a ship's little cabin irradiated by a dim light, whose motions, with the rolling and the pitching of the ship, filled the darkling interior with a hundred dancing spectres. His marine ear would take no heed of the voices of the ship in that cabin, the groans and murmurs, the low whistlings and rusty strainings. This was a concert which his seasoned sense of hearing must miss or overlook in his perception of the picture he viewed.,

"True," answered Captain Acton.

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No more would the fire-flies weave a gauze of golden stars above the marshlands at the foot of the Causeway. The season of green and blue had lived and died and in its place had been born a season of drab and brown. Summer was gone. The song-birds had migrated. Soon the green rush fields would sway, grey and dead and the bronze woodcocks would whistle away from the bog-lands, for seldom did they tarry after the first frost. Along the creek the red-winged black-birds would be sounding their up-and-away notes. No happy carol to welcome the first glow of dawn! No wonder Billy sighed. Then he lifted his head quickly as, high above him, sounded the whistle of wings. Up from the north a wedgeshaped flock of wild ducks came speeding, white backs flashing as they pitched downward in unbroken formation towards the calling bay-waters.,

The invitation was accepted with many thanks.,

Billy tried to say something. His lips moved dumbly. Moisture gathered between his shoulder blades, condensed as it met cold fear, and trickled in tiny rivulets down his shivering spine.,

"Sure. Now shut up an' let's get home. I expect Ma'll be waitin' up to give me hail Columbia, an' I guess you won't be gettin' any pettin' from yourn, either."