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Johnny Blossom thought that the room had become stiller than ever. A strange, wonderful feeling swept over him. There was something serious, something that he alone was to be responsible for, something expected of him that no one, no other person, could help him with. "I see two horsemen coming this way," she replied, "but they are still a great distance off. Heaven be praised!" she exclaimed a moment afterwards. "They are my brothers! I am making all the signs I can to hasten them." And will track them right into their homes—lack-a-day!.

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How still, how still the world was! How fresh and cool! The sun was shining now on the big pine trees back of the house and their trunks were deep red in the strong light. What a fragrance came from the garden—the rich scent of roses, particularly—and how very damp the garden path was! My, oh, my! The dew was certainly like pearls, scattered over the grass—shining white pearls. Johnny Blossom looked at the clock on the church tower. Two minutes before five. Pshaw! so early! Oh, well! Never mind. It was all right. He could do what he liked until the rest of the family got up. To Bob’s great disgust his first job was not out on the construction work. Whiskers had turned him over to Mr. Taylor, who set him to work in the draughting room. All day long he sat on a stool, and did simple sums: endless multiplications and divisions of figures that came from the blue prints made by the engineers. It was stupid work and had in it little of the romance which he had always associated with the work he was to do. However, he comforted himself with the thought that if it were not necessary, the Chief would never set him at it. Bob followed and was led to a little clump of bushes that grew on the edge some distance from the hotel. Mr. Whitney pushed them aside and disclosed a little ledge a few feet down from the rim, which afforded a comfortable seat. “From the whole tree? Eight apples?”.