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Anson, sitting slit-eyed and gleeful close beside him, received the slap with a force that knocked his face into his porridge bowl. He came out of his abstraction with a start and glanced at her, almost guiltily. "Yes, Chick." "I heard you the first time," panted the indignant woman. "You said if I teched you you'd take a stick to me. So you'd commit murder on a woman who has been a second mother to you, would you! You'd brain me with a stick out of that wood-box! Oh! Oh!" She lifted her apron and covered her face..

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Up in the roomy loft which he and his step-brother, Anson, shared together, he lit the lamp. Anson was sleeping and Billy wondered just what he would say when he woke up in the morning and found his pants gone. Their mother had demanded that a pair of pants be thrown down to her. Billy needed his own so he had thrown down Anson's. Miss Lucy Acton sat with her eyes veiled by downcast lids fixed in a stare as lifeless as the dead upon her hands, which lay clasped in her lap. So motionless was she, you would have said she slept. Much of the lovely bloom that always gave to her lineaments a choice sweetness was absent, but not the less[Pg 281] did as much of her face as was visible express its refined and delicate beauty. He wanted to tear up a sapling by the roots and bust something with it, wanted to shout, wanted to let all the world know his joy. But he didn't. He compromised by standing on his head and walking the full length of the mossy grove on his hands. "I reported her as soon as I saw her, sir.".