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“Well, I must get at my job, too. That’s thinking up things. You fellers do your work an’ get your money; but I got to rustle that money or bust.” What if they should find him? Gee! Couldn’t a boy run faster than a man? Another sound banished these thoughts; wheels on the road, whose thick coat of dust almost hushed the ring of metal tires. A horseman before, and now a wagon; this was an unusual amount of travel for that lonely road. “Said so, but they’re late. We’ve got an addition, the little earthquake girl.” This last was a sibilant aside..

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“Moses! Betty! Time fer school!” called Mrs. Wopp. Betty, satisfied that after Moses’ frenzied ministrations she was quite presentable, hastened into the house. Moses fled into the yard where he became very active splitting wood, his guilty conscience adding efficiency to his arm. St. Elmo cast about in his mind for some plausible explanation of his recent panic. It would never do to inform the world that he had been afraid of a mere turkey. Mrs. Wopp, as was usual at the morning meal, appeared with her greyish-red hair tortured with curl papers. After depositing the appetizing breakfast dish on the table she thrust her head out of a window and called lustily, “Come on Moses the perkelater’s perkin’ an’ the bacon’s sizzlin’ on the plate.” The story had fairly begun when Mrs. Wopp, Nell Gordon and Mrs. Bliggins could be heard coming up the ladder..