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Maurice puckered up his lips and gave an answering call. It was returned almost immediately. A moment later two more boys came into the moonlight. Caleb Spencer, proprietor of the Twin Oaks store, paused at his garden gate to light his corncob pipe. The next three hours would be his busy time. The farmers of Scotia would come driving in for their mail and to make necessary purchases of his wares. His pipe alight to his satisfaction, Caleb crossed the road, then stood still in his tracks to fasten his admiring gaze on the rambling, unpainted building which was his pride and joy. He had built that store himself. With indefatigable pains and patience he had fashioned it to suit his mind. Every evening, just at this after-supper hour, he stood still for a time to admire it, as he was doing now. "I expect you will find her down at the wharves waiting for the ship to sail," said Miss Acton. "I met Mrs Jellybottle yesterday. She told me that Farmer Jellybottle had received on the previous day a large parcel of very substantial eatables from his brother, who is head gardener at Lord Lancaster's. Lucy has possibly been tempted by the display.".

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"'I'll give you five dollars if you'll catch them weasels that are killin' my chickens,' he says. A slim girl in a gingham dress stood in front of the counter placing parcels in a basket. She turned a flushed face, lit with brown roguish eyes, on Caleb, as he came in. "Me—Thomas Hanlin," was the answer, and a sailor made two or three steps and stood close to Old Jim. "Billy," she spoke again, "are you sick?".