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"Has Mr Eagle been talking to you about the subject of our conversation this morning?" said Mr Lawrence. Croaker turned his back and murmured a whole string of "coro-corrs," which to Billy meant just as plain as words could say it that he hadn't the slightest intention of telling anything. Something like a muffled chuckle came from behind the stairway door, but the good woman, intent on her grievance, did not hear it. Wilson heard, however, and let the boot-jack fall to the floor with a clatter. He picked it up and carried it over to its accustomed peg on the wall, whistling softly the tune which he had whistled to Billy in the old romping, astride-neck days:.
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"You wait till you size him up," said Anson. "He's taller'n you are an' heavier, too. Oh, you'll have your hands full when he tackles you, Mister Scrapper-Bill." "Boys," cried Billy in awed tones. "It's gone!" Over beside the table, Mrs. Wilson watched him from somber eyes. "Well, Mr Greyquill, twenty-five guineas when I'm paid off on my return home. I can say no more, and can promise no more.".
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