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Mrs. Burke had brought in a plate of cookies. Erie took one and held it up, as an enticement to Croaker. The boy, who had been studying the man before him, turned away to execute his father's order. If he knew anything about teachers—and he did—he and the other lads of the community were in for a high old time, he told himself. He went down to the gate, the dog trotting at his heels. "I have bled for my country, your honour," said the man..

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Mr Lawrence gave him a nod and then turned his head away, not desirous of further converse with a man he regarded as inferior to a boatswain's mate or master-at-arms upon a man-of-war. "I see," said Scroggie. Of course he didn't, but he wanted to make Billy feel that he did. "I don't think it left any mark," Billy stammered. "Anyways, I feel a whole lot better now. It was foolish for me to climb that tall tree. I didn't have to do it." He sighed and turned to glance back at the cottage resting in the hardwood grove. It looked very homey, very restful to him, beneath its vines of clustering wild-grape and honeysuckle. It was home—home it must be always. And Mary loved it just as he loved it; this he knew. She was a fine woman, a great helpmate, a wonderful wife and mother. She was fair minded too. She loved Billy quite as much as she loved her own son, Anson. Billy must be more careful, more thoughtful of her comfort. He would have a heart to heart talk with his son, he told himself as he went on to the barn..