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Dinner was long over, Judith's lessons done and bed-time come, when at last Patricia hurried down to the long parlor where Doris sat in the dim light. "You duck!" she cried, and, although Judith gasped and paled at the audacious epithet, Miss Jinny merely chuckled and patted her tenderly and then passed her on to the smiling, pink-cheeked little old lady in the rocker. "What'll I tell her, if I do?" demanded Patricia indignantly. "I haven't any idea what you want to telegraph?".
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"No, we looked for them high and low, but didn't see hide nor hair of them," he answered, ruffing his hair in a way that distressed Patricia, who was very proud of his straight, shining locks. "Quite sure, sir. It was bolted and barred. The door was simply closed, for I never thought of locking it, as I fancied, sir, that you might return after midnight to see if all was right." "Supper—slice of toast and an apple." Why the apple? Why supper at all? "I can't exactly describe it. A rich, heavy, deadly sort of thing, likely, I should think, to dull the sharpest senses.".
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