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The Sheriff wondered at the boy’s vehemence, yet was too busy loading the wagon to pay much attention to him. “Think you’re fit, sonny? You look all in. Better ride to town—we’ll send some one for the little girl.” When she came to this point all her listeners looked for their handkerchiefs. And May Nell stopped suddenly, smiled, and finished, “And God heard me; and Billy rescued me.” But not that night nor for days after did Billy look at his books. The second morning the fever was still present, and he told his mother he was “all over red goose flesh.”.

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“He was a real little cat Moses, wasn’t he? And you—you must be Pharaoh’s son instead of daughter.” The child laughed and clapped her hands. In the hours of joy that followed, joy known only to boys and farms in conjunction, Billy,—and it was unusual for him,—more than once recalled his mother’s words; heeded them to the extent of bidding Harold a reluctant good-bye when the sun was still blazing high above the horizon. But when, on his way home, he came to the branching of the road his good resolution weakened. He looked back. The sun was surely more than an hour high. He would have time to go up the hill road to the “Ha’nt.” And, beside that, he wished to look at the river where its divided flow encircled a tiny, shrub-grown island. A lot more nonsense he rattled off, squeezing and kissing her till she was breathless with laughter. May Nell looked at him with wide eyes. She saw that he was not a vineyard workman, his clothes were too fine. She did not see them in detail, the large checked trousers, the shiny gloves, and the big diamond, but she felt instinctively that one who could dress so was different from the men she knew. And the look in his face made her cold..