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“Them’s thum,” was the sophisticated answer.,

In the midst of these reflections, the trombone player of the orchestra came to him.,

She took a step, but he caught her hand. “I don’t care if I am, he mustn’t see—no one must,—I didn’t mean you should. Besides, I walked home and brought my wheel; I’ll live, I guess,—I’m too mean to kill.” He put his stiff, swollen hand over his face. “It’s Jimmy that’s in danger.” A new note of terror came into his voice as he remembered the pale face and limp arm; he had never seen a fighting boy look so before. “I’m afraid Jimmy’s hurt inside, mother. What if he should die?”,

“My feet’s purty well jolted up inter my head,” cried the uncomfortable rider. But Betty insisted on his getting full value for his money, and dared him to descend until the round of the arena had been completed.

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“Now ef you would jist play ‘Home Sweet Home’ with variations, my dear, we’ll arterwards hev a game of crokinole. Crokinole is sich an amusin’ game.”,

Then one day, after several years, a stranger had come to town with a startling story. He said that he had been a sailor on the “Wanderer,” when she had made her last voyage. The ship had been blown in a gale upon the rocky coast of a small island in the south seas. He with several others of the crew and a few passengers had managed to get to land and had been hospitably treated by the natives. A small trading-vessel which regularly visited the island had taken them off in the course of the next few weeks, but one of their number, a passenger named Snoop, had refused to leave. He had asserted he might as well be there as anywhere else. Later reports brought from the island by the crew of the trading-vessel had been to the effect that Mr. Snoop was leading a tranquil and peaceful existence. He was espoused to several dusky maidens and was so much revered and respected as the only possessor of a white skin on the island, that he was never expected to stir hand or foot in any way suggesting work.,

But Mrs. Bennett, fleet though speechless, was at the water’s edge by the time Jimmy had risen with May Nell quite safe. She spluttered and choked a little; but Jimmy had been so quick there was not even a red spot on her flesh to show the touch of fire.,

“Here are more beads of wampum, Betty, as I have no garden.” Nell Gordon’s silver donation added appreciably to the weight of the collection box.