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“Please, Mith Wopp, the latht windthorm upthet our hen-houth.” “St. Elmo’s lost, Ma,” wailed Maria. “We can’t find him and he’s wandered down the creek.” Billy took no heed of time till he saw the man above shoulder his hoe, pick up his wine jug, and start down the hill. At that Billy’s heels grew swift. He scurried out of his hiding place, slipped rapidly through the brush, found his wheel, and bowled off. No languor or heaviness now in body or mind. Every atom of him was alert as on the night of the opera, yet not so normally alert; for the evil atmosphere of the place was in his soul, filling his teeming brain with imaginings of many crimes..
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As far as general knowledge went, Betty was a complete encyclopedia ahead of Moses. That youth’s brains had too many labyrinthine passages through which knowledge meandered and got lost to ever lay claim to erudition. As for creative ability, Betty imbibed ideas at every pore. She took odd moments of her busy days and patching them together made hours of creative joy, a sort of mental Joseph’s coat of rainbow brightness. “Why, ma, the children are quite respectable; I know all their mothers.” Buzz’s mamma looked a little mischievous. “O, Mosey, these leaves is lovely, an’ jist look here roun’ the edge, looks like the fairies has left footprints!” “What does that mean?” queried Moses..
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