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"The butcher does not charge at your rate, Mr Greyquill," said Mr Lawrence with a faint smile. "Will we foller 'em, Bill?" asked Maurice eagerly. "'All this time,' I says, an' to save my life I couldn't help laughin' at the look on his face. He knowed right then that I had put up a job on him but he couldn't figure out how.".

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"No, Anse, I promised Missus Keeler that me an' Maurice would keep fire under that preservin' kettle till she gits back from the store. I need the ten cents to buy fish hooks with, besides—' The sehoolhouse stood with a wide sloping green before it and a tangle of second growth forest behind it. It was not an old building, but had the appearance of senile old age. Its coat of cheap terra-cotta paint had cracked into many wrinkles; its windows looked dully out like the lustreless eyes of an old, old man. The ante-room roof had been blown off by a winter's gale and replaced inaccurately, so that it set awry, jaunty and defiant, challenging the world. Its door hung on one hinge, leaning sleepily against a knife-scarred wall. A rail fence ran about the yard which was filled to choking with a rank growth of smart-weed. In one corner of the yard was a well with a faded blue pump holding the faded red arm of a handle toward the skies, as though evoking high heaven to bear witness that it was never intended to lead such a lonely and useless existence. "Good God!" he ejaculated, "where is she?" "He can control himself," said Captain Acton. "Did you observe, Lucy, that he refused all refreshments last night? Now, a man who is radically and incurably a sot cannot view a decanter of anything to drink, and the stronger the worse, without thirsting[Pg 77] for it. And did ever such a man say no to an invitation to drink with the liquor standing up in a bottle in front of him?".