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Several ladies of the district were already busy “scttin’ up” the quilt when Mrs. Wopp and her satellites entered the Mifsud parlor. Billy didn’t wait. Like all generous natures that are slow to anger, the passion once aroused possessed him to madness. He raced down the turnpike, his face aflame. Ahead he could see the Dorrs’ horse and buggy standing near the fence. Jimmy was on the ground beside the Twins; and Billy saw the whip descend more than once before he arrived. Had he known it the blows were make-believe, for moral effect alone. Jimmy was giving a lesson that his Southern breeding made him think necessary, if painful. “Amen!”.
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Conrad
“Easy, mates. Kids, belay there, till we launch her!” This to the gaping youngsters always in the way. She stood at the end of the creaking wharf, and one little bare arm was lifted high. She held a small fruit jar filled with water and beet juice. It was awkward, but Billy had insisted on the fruit jar,—“So’s it will be sure to break; it’s the only kind of a bottle that always will break.” The bottle went crash, and a furious yell informed the neighborhood that the Gang was “up to some new deviltry.” “Dad an’ Mosey don’t look orful happy,” she laughed. “Smile at me, Mosey.”.
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