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“Them’s thum,” was the sophisticated answer. “How splendid! You must go, Billy. Do all the boys mind you?” “Then I’ll be a—a preacher if I ought to. But gee! it’s rocky!”.
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Conrad
Billy cuddled down in the low-growing manzanitas, whose screen was further thickened by a tangle of wild pea vines all a-bloom. Placing himself so that he could watch both the house and the man on the hill, he settled to await further disclosures. “Are you hungry, Isobel?” questioned her mother. “I’ll wrestle with you first chance,” he challenged; “but you wouldn’t have any show, your dress is so long. Why do you have ’em so?” Harold turned and looked to where May Nell stood with the twins, sorting her flowers. “Isn’t she a daisy, though? Little—why, she’s only a baby.”.
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