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“Why?” Bob wanted to know. Driving the blast, sits Danger's black'ning form. “I’ll tell Mr. Whitney and no one else,” was the defiant answer. Jerry’s first remark had evidently been surprised out of him and now he was again in control of himself..

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“All right then, Jerry,” was Mr. Whitney’s decision. “I’ll leave it to you and Feather-in-the-Wind to do with him as you like.” It was sufficient. Bob walked off unconcernedly but as soon as dark had fallen he went to the appointed place. He had not been there long when the Indian glided up to him. The wedding was hardly over before the stepmother's ill-humour broke out. She could not endure the young girl, whose good qualities made her own daughters appear still more detestable. She put her to do all the most menial work in the house. It was she who washed up the plates and dishes, and cleaned the stairs; who scrubbed the stepmother's room, and those of her daughters. She slept in a garret at the top of the house, on a wretched straw mattress, while her sisters occupied rooms with inlaid floors, and had the latest fashioned beds, and mirrors in which they could see themselves from head to foot. The poor girl bore everything with patience, and did not dare complain to her father, who would only have scolded her, as he was entirely governed by his wife. When she had done her work, she was in the habit of going into the chimney-corner and sitting down amongst the cinders, which caused her to be nicknamed Cindertail by the household in general. The second daughter, however, who was not quite so rude as her sister, called her Cinderella. Nevertheless, Cinderella in her shabby clothes, still looked a thousand times more beautiful than her sisters, although so magnificently dressed. “It’s more than I can bear,” she said. “I’m all weak and trembly in my knees. God bless you, boy, what is it you say? Shall I see once more? Oh, God’s mercy is great!”.