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jackpot lottery ASIA'S NO. 1 BAKER CHANNEL “Now Mosey, you be ticket man at the gate an’ I’ll hev the circus all ready,” cried Betty bounding into the house in the shortest possible time after the departure of the elderly merrymakers.,The sound was an ominous warning to Moses, to finish his breakfast with all possible speed.,“Oh, Billy, how could you, when mother has so much to do?” It was his sister, Edith, who spoke, her sweet face clouded with rare disapproval. Yet she went on with the music lesson she was giving.,“Perhaps not,” answered Nell, “I can see there are wonderful possibilities in this vast country. Some day this prairie will be dotted here and there with prosperous towns. But don’t let us be serious. Here’s a grand place for a race. I know ‘Ladybird’ can beat ‘The Kid.’”,The pictures that followed were of fairies and sprites irresistible to childish minds.，“She’ll be afraid to sleep in the downstairs bedroom,” Mrs. Bennett reflected, planning rapidly for the unexpected child whom she still had no thought of turning from her door.，“I don’t know what’s the matter,—I’m drowned, I guess.” His teeth rattled, and the hand he put out to her was icy cold.，“Never mind Jobie, we want Jethro to win anyway, don’t we?” said Betty, presenting to the turkey her pocket filled with grain.“She’s at Vine Hill—miles away; we’ll beat her if we hurry.” His words were a bit breathless.

“Not arf as smart as a magpie,” dissented Moses, “I’ve saw magpies that c’d think up the scheminest things.” Moses was beginning to suffer from a surfeit of information and wanted to make a break in the proceedings.,By this time Betty was getting hoarse and instructed her perspiring assistant what next to shout and the most fetching modulations of voice to use. The change in program was bellowed in Moses’ raucous voice, “An orstrich here, only fifty cents to see a live trained orstrich!” A huge swallow and he continued, “Brought from Carliforny and trained by the famousest lady Betty Wopp.” After further instructions he went on, “This orstrich is named Job Wopp. He kin lay the largest aig in the world, kin run faster than any horse, could strike you dead with the hoof of his clawr.” Further whispering on the part of Betty and the address concluded, “Yet, ladies and gents, he is as gentle as a spring chicking.”,He lifted the board, trying its weight. Could he ever get it safely placed? Higher he lifted it, and began to let it drop; but he saw that if the other end missed the window sill, it would pull him down to the court below. Frantic, he stared about for help, for inspiration. He dared not wait till the passers came in hearing; the sound of his voice calling might too soon rouse men inside, make them shoot perhaps. As it was he expected every minute to see a swarthy face appear, a hand with a knife or pistol. It was not for himself he feared, but for May Nell, the little girl who for some strange reason was worth something to these desperadoes, and whose life would be on his soul if he did not save her.,CHAPTER VI.—AN EVENING IN THE WOPP PARLOR.,Jenny, my own true loved one,“So long as it isn’t you, Ladybird, it’s all right,” Billy consoled; “we can make more boats.”,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.,“It’s a hurry-up order for more,” Billy amended.,The Bennetts’ was one of the oldest places in town, and the most beautiful. It was near the heart of the growing village ambitiously calling itself a city. Level lawns protected by high hedges and shaded by many trees, spread amply around the house and back to the first terrace, where a tangle of berry vines covered trellises that shut off a lower level devoted to vegetables. Beyond this was the chickens’ domain, rock-dotted acres that sloped sharply to where Runa Creek boiled over its stony bed. Here mother hens fluttered and scolded while web-footed broods paddled in the edges of the stream.,“Here, let me do that,” Harold commanded; “you go and do the rest of your work. We won’t get to play in all day. The Gang coming?”,In a cage of wire netting bearing the legend, “The Roc—The Egg,” the uncomfortable gander swayed and craned his neck; and all but his voice was satisfactory. In the bottom of the cage a whitewashed stone the size of a small pumpkin did duty as the egg.,“All over the house does she put them?” the child asked after she had snipped a fragrant heap..