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“Say, little kid, what’s your name?” he asked, merrily, as he routed a great white cat from his own chair and placed it before the fire for the child.,

Mrs. Wopp repeated the words, slowly rolling them on her tongue as though to extract every ounce possible of scriptural nutriment, “So they took up Joner and carst him forth inter the sea.”,

How the missionary box would jingle! How the heathen would sing for joy! While on the Wopp table carrot pudding could become a diurnal felicity!,

They walked up as before, and ate slowly, piece by piece, neither touching a morsel on the opposite side of the division line. Sir Thomas finished first, and looked on while Flash minced more daintily. He did not eat all, but walked off to the plush-cushioned chair they claimed as their own. Sir Thomas watched him curl up and rest his nose on his white forepaws, then quickly finished the rest of the meat and joined him. And now such a toilet began. Each groomed the other; yet, as always, Tom tired first while Flash worked on till they both shone like silk, when he put his long arms about Tom, nestled his head close down, and both slept.

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Billy read the note several times. He knew that Jimmy meant much more than the words said; it was his offer of the “olive branch.” And Billy, thinking over that miserable afternoon, wondered again how it had been possible for him to feel such murderous hate for anything living. And for Jimmy! His mate at school, in play! The picture came to him of Jackson crying, of Vilette,—yes, it was not strange he had been angry. But it was not his duty to punish; even if it had been, he knew he had forgotten Jackson and Vilette, forgotten everything except the rage of the fight. Why was it? Older heads than Billy’s have asked in sorrow that same question after the madness of some angry deed has passed to leave in its wake sleepless remorse.,

“Orl right Betty, I’ll do it, but ef it is a poor job don’t blame me,” returned Moses as he advanced with the scissors.,

For I’m a young thing and cannot leave my mother.”,

“Aren’t you going to say ‘Good-morning’ to me, Billy?” She put out the slenderest little white hand, and looked into his face appealingly.