"Sure he came back. He's a wise crow, that Croaker, an', Oh gosh! don't he hate Ma, though! He gets up in a tree out o' reach of her broom, an' jest don't he call her names in crow talk? Ma says she'll kill him if ever she gets close enough to him an' she will, too.",
Johnston had turned to his desk and secured a shorter, stronger pointer. The veins between his shaggy eyebrows stood out clearly defined as he motioned Billy up on the platform.,
Billy turned slowly, his fingers fumbling with his cotton braces. He looked at the noxious dose in the tumbler, then at his mother's face. "All right," he said gently, "I'll take 'em, Ma; give 'em here.".
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