“Then that was what you meant when you told us that the laborers wouldn’t be any bother, was it?” asked Bob.,
In the tiny bedroom in town Johnny Blossom laid his brown head on the pillow. “Thank you, dear God, thank you, thank you,” he murmured, and said no more, for he was overpowered by sleep.,
No, it had not occurred to Johnny Blossom that it was anything to be particularly glad about..
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