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Finally it got too much for Bob and one day, taking his courage in both hands, he blurted forth, “Say, Whisk—Mr. Whitney, what’s gone wrong? Is it anything money won’t cure?” He held his breath awaiting the answer. It was a cheeky, nervy thing to do and if his boss did not take it the right way, he would be perfectly justified in sending him back to the horrible punishment of the draughting room. But he need not have worried. Mr. Whitney was too much of a big boy himself and had too much understanding not to realize that the question had been asked because anything that troubled him meant so much to the boy. “Yes,” said Jerry, “but—I didn’t figure on anything like this.” “An old postage stamp,” said she..
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"Will we foller 'em, Bill?" asked Maurice eagerly.I tried logging in using my phone number and I
was supposed to get a verification code text,but didn't
get it. I clicked resend a couple time, tried the "call
me instead" option twice but didn't get a call
either. the trouble shooting had no info on if the call
me instead fails.There was
"What dye s'pose made Caleb Spencer put up that job on me?" questioned Billy. "I never fooled him any. I did cut some letters on his new bench, but he needn't feel so sore at that."
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Conrad
Bob looked and saw it was so. A little speck of white appeared in the distance. Rapidly it grew larger. Now the blackness turned to a gray and in the new light the boys saw why it was they had come through without rubbing against the side walls. As he came up the Indian held out his hand and said gravely, “Feather-in-the-Wind thanks you.” Without further word he marched off. “All right,” said Bob laughing. “I reckon you’re lost. I’m beat, but I sure hope you will find that you picked the right thing for yourself.” If the son of a miller so quickly could gain.
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