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"But the light is the same, isn't it, Billy?" Above him bent a face with tender blue eyes and red, half-smiling lips beneath a crowning glory as golden as frost-pinched maple leaf. And she would be at school in the morning! It was while pondering on how he might contrive to wear his Sunday clothes on the morrow that Billy fell asleep to dream that he was old man Scroggie's ghost and that he was sitting in the centre of Lake Erie with the big hardwoods bush on his knees, waiting for her to come that he might present it all to her. His mind traveled at once to Anse. So that meddler had been here and tried to let his pets free, had he? Apparently the chump didn't know they each had a separate cage, or if he did he hadn't the nerve to open it. Well, it meant that Anse had that much more to settle for with him, that was all!.

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"Shoot?" That night the fishermen of Sandtown were caught red-handed, stealing Deacon Ringold's harvest apples. Like hungry ants scenting sugar they descended upon that orchard, en masse, at exactly ten-thirty o'clock. By ten-forty they had done more damage to the hanging fruit than a wind storm could do in an hour and at ten-forty-five they were pounced upon by the angry deacon and his neighbors and given the lecture of their lives. In vain they pleaded that it was all a mistake, that they had been sent an invitation via a small boy, from the deacon himself. "Fer goodness sake, Ma, don't touch that gold! It's bewitched, I tell you!" Mr Lawrence gave him a nod and then turned his head away, not desirous of further converse with a man he regarded as inferior to a boatswain's mate or master-at-arms upon a man-of-war..