Mr. Wopp and Moses, who had hurried to the upper storey to escape the recital of the ketchup episode, now came heavily down the stairs, their task at last finished.,
“There’s a little secret about work; with grown-ups it is often their play; and they like it.”,
“Billy, you’re a wise guy. This beats Maskey’s,” Harold declared.,
Mrs. Mifsud had entered the room in time to hear the last remark. Owing to the paucity of minds as keenly intellectual as her own, Mrs. Mifsud always tried to keep her remarks to a suitable level so that all present might comprehend her language. The heights, alas! must be scaled by her alone. While willing to acknowledge the substantial character of Mrs. Wopp, she considered her sadly deficient in grammar and social graces. She now interposed.
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“My racer has only one eye anyways,” said Betty defiantly as she twined a piece of nasturtium vine round the noble brow of the victor.,
The Wopps, father and son, attacked the load of hay with such vigor that it was quickly disposed of. Just as the last forkful was being pitched over the corral fence, the boy looking up saw a vehicle approaching.,
Jimmy had the trick ponies and the trained dogs. Teaching them was the chief joy of his life. What if there were only two ponies, and their spots were painted on? And what if the children had seen all the tricks over and over again? They were good as new each time. Besides, the ponies’ one brand-new trick, when at the crack of a whip they stood on their hind feet in unison, was so effective that it frightened May Nell. She saw it first in the barn; and when their shod hoofs came down she thought they would crash right through the floor.,
“Yes, when you and sister turn gray getting it out of me. No, I’m going to do real work that will earn money; and I’m going to take this never-get-enough grub-basket of mine to a table where my own hands have earned the grub.”
“Sometimes yes an’ orftener no. I’d hate to leave Betty an’ the pinto.”
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The strains of “Red Wing” having died away, Mrs. Wopp busied herself setting up the crokinole board. “Me and Par won’t play, jist the young folks,” she announced.
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She put back his tumbled hair, looked long into his eyes, realizing with a shock that she was looking up. Her little boy was gone.
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“All right,” Billy acquiesced with a nonchalant tact; “I thought Sour’n Shifty’d make good surveyors, Pretty; but I guess you can do that an’ your own job too, can’t you?” Billy turned to Harold, while George watched to see what Jimmy did.
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Halin-Chen Response,
>Was there to be another murder? Ought he to call? If he did wouldn’t they turn on him—kill him? No matter. Some one might be on the road and hear. And he could run pretty fast. Anyway he must risk it.
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