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The elders, having settled at their task, Maria Mifsud and Betty, who were considered too young and irresponsible to assist with such important work, made their way to the creek, that perennial source of amusement for the youthful. They were accompanied by Maria’s small brother, St. Elmo. Here, during the long summer afternoon they gaily disported themselves, even the rather dignified Maria entering with zest into childish fun. As many of the hens and chickens as could be persuaded were ushered into the yard to add to the numerical strength of the menagerie. “I’ll mow in the morning. Let me stay and visit Pretty—Harold, I mean—till sundown; can’t I, mamma?” He patted her cheek with a vigor that made her wink. “You know you can’t refuse your darling boy,” he wheedled..

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Before he emerged from the leafy path Billy heard well-known whining, and wondered why the dog didn’t come to meet him. The next instant he saw him straining against his bonds. They looked at her a minute, dropped reluctantly to the floor, and retired. Billy needed no hurrying. He dashed off along a well defined path, free from hindering branches. It hugged the brawling stream, crossed it more than once by way of stepping stones, and led on past the already shriveling azaleas. It must have been long used to be so clear. “That boy’ll sartinly spill the tea,” prophecied Mrs. Wopp, with laughing pessimism..