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Mrs. Bennett was setting the table. She put down a pile of plates, and a new anxiety came into her careworn face. “A child? I told Mr. Patton I couldn’t take one.” “Why, you see,” Billy hesitated, for he was modest, “sister has a class of us heathen boys, and—well, you see, it’s this way; sister says,—she’s partial, you know,—she says I have influence; if I don’t giggle the others won’t, and she gets on O. K.” Norah clutched a fat smiling doll in one arm. As the result of a puncture from a nail in the fence the doll was bleeding sawdust badly at the knee. However a surgical operation with needle and thread would restore health, and Norah stanched the wound with her pinafore and prepared to enjoy life to the full. The doll continued to smile gaily as though Spartan sawdust ran in her veins..

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THE place Billy called the Fo’castle was a tiny room in the sloping windmill tower. It was level with the second floor of the house, and a narrow, railed bridge connected it with a door in his mother’s room. Under it was the above-ground cellar, overhead the big tank. Still higher whirled the great white wings that pumped the beauty-giving water to lawn and gardens. “St. Elmo’s lost, Ma,” wailed Maria. “We can’t find him and he’s wandered down the creek.” “He ran up and touched noses with Tom like a Feegee Islander,—are they the people that touch noses for ‘How do you do?’” Billy could not remember that he had..