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"Say, here's a piece of news fer you," cried Billy. "We're goin' to get ol' Harry O'Dule to help us. He's the seventh son of a seventh son. We're goin' over to his cabin to see him tonight." Anse nodded a reluctant admission. "Understand, brothers," the deacon admonished as they parted, "we must be careful not to let them poor, ignorant people think we're doin' this little act of Christianity because they've seen fit to fulfill their promise to us regardin' fish. That would spoil the spirit of our givin'. Let not one man among us so much as mention fish. Brotherly kindness, Christian example. That's our motto, brothers, and we'll foller it.".
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Conrad
Keeler roused himself from his abstraction and resumed: "Right next to the Stanhope farm there stood about a thousand acres of the purtiest hardwoods you ever clap't an eye on, sir. An ol' hermit of a drunken Scotchman, Scroggie by name, owned that land. He lived in a dirty little cabin an' was so mean even the mice was scared to eat the food he scrimped himself on. He had money too, lots an' lots of gold money. I've seen it myself. He kept it hid somewhere. Old Greyquill, trudging on busy in thought with Mr Lawrence's debt, was moved by some idea of the man to look behind him. Mr Lawrence had disappeared. Quite discernible from where Greyquill stood was the sheet of paper Lawrence had let fall. Old Greyquill stopped, peered, reflected that it might be a letter that he himself had unconsciously been toying with and had dropped, or that in some other way had let fall from his pocket. He retraced the few steps that lay between and picked it up, and proceeded with it in one hand, whilst with the other he fumbled for his spectacle-case. "Twenty-five guineas is a very small proportion of three hundred pounds," he exclaimed. "My daughter, sir!" cried Captain Acton..
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