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Anson looked troubled. "Supposin' I don't know—" he began, but Billy shook his head. "Yep; but by jinks! I had a awful time guessin' what you meant by them marks you made on the paper. Darn it all, Bill, why can't you write what you want'a say, instead of makin' marks that nobody kin understan'?" Anson's face reddened. "You needn't get funny!" he cried, angrily. "Any feller's liable to black an eye runnin' agin a tree, in the dark.".
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Conrad
The building held all the unmistakable odors of a school room. The smell of chalk dust, mouldy bread crusts, mice, dirty slates and musty books rose up to smite the arrivals. Four rows of pine seats, blackened with ink-daubs and deeply scarred by pocket-knives, ran the entire length of the building. A big box stove stood in the centre of the room, its wavering pipe supported by wires from the ceiling. "Not before?" cried Miss Acton, an exclamation which Captain Weaver received with a faint smile. "Well, what do you think they stand fer?" "She lives at Uphill Cottage, and lay in of a very fine baby a fortnight yesterday, and has done very poorly since. You cannot tell me how she does?".
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