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“Moses, I hear yer Par comin’ with the hay,” announced Mrs. Wopp, suddenly. “You’ll hev to go help him with it.” “You’re George Rideout Smith’s kid, ain’t you?” Mrs. Wopp’s face assumed a forgiving air as she accepted this defence. Then began that portion of the story that leads up to the tragic culmination..
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Conrad
Billy entered with a cat under each arm. “Geewhillikins,” he introduced, “the best fighter in town,” and put down a stub-tailed, gray cat, half as large as the house pets, with “tom-cat” speaking from every hair of him. “I think mamma’s partial,—she lets sister’s cats come in the house, but not mine.” “Orl right Betty, I’ll do it, but ef it is a poor job don’t blame me,” returned Moses as he advanced with the scissors. A kindly man held her by the hand, yet he was evidently a stranger to her. “Sure!” Billy assented, heartily. “I take it back about old Sir Thomas; I guess they’re equal partners, after all.”.
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