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He dropped to the sward and stepped through an unglazed window into the hut. Nailed to one end was a crude ladder. Billy climbed the ladder and peered closely at the log which held the money. To all appearances it was exactly like its fellows, no door, no latch to be seen. And still, he reasoned, there must be an opening of some kind there. He lit a match and held it close to the log. Then he whistled. What he had mistaken for a pine knot was a small button fixed, as he saw now, in a tiny groove. He moved the button and a small section of the log fell, spraying him with musty dust.,"Whilst the scritch-owl, scritching loud,,"You are not well, are you, Mrs. Geoffrey?" he says, sympathetically, getting up from his own chair to lean tenderly over the back of hers. Nolly is nothing if not affectionate, where women are concerned. It gives him no thought or trouble to be attentive to them, as in his soul he loves them all,—in the abstract,—from the dairymaid to the duchess, always provided they are pretty.,"Billy," she half-whispered, then hiding her flushed face in her hands she turned and ran from him.,Bob Hazard knew from Jerry’s spontaneous outburst that Mr. Whitney was to be congratulated, so he made a little speech.,“Oh, yes, the whole garden is full.”,"Is that what you think?" he says, earnestly. "Then for once you are wrong. I have never been—I shall hardly be again—happier than I have been in Ireland.",“Wisht that orful pitcher ’d fall inter the swill-pail an’ then turn a somerset in the soot-pile,” murmured the boy as he noticed the care exercised over its safety.,"At home," returns he. He is gazing out of the window, with his hands clasped behind his back, and does not pay so much attention to her words as is his wont.,“You remember that story about a man who died for love of a girl because he knew he ought not to marry her? I thought that sort kind of noble, but you said there was nobler. Do you remember?”,"Oh, Nolly!" says Dorothy, hastily.,What a clear light green the water was under the wharf! You could see every single snail shell, every starfish, and every tiniest stone on the smooth, light-colored bottom. Whole schools of small fish darted, quick as lightning, between the slimy old piles. Once in a while a lazy eel glided under the wharf, wound slowly in and out, lay still a moment as if to sun itself, then slowly, curve after curve, took itself out again..