The wind began to blow and the pear rocked up and down. It was queer the way there came a whack from the sea against the buoy with every wave. The pear rocked more and more. My! oh, my! how the sea hit against it now! Almost hard enough to send the spray away up to him. What had become of those silly postmaster’s boys? He could see nothing of the boat anywhere. It was probably behind the wharf. Not a person was to be seen on the wharf now, either. It was so late that every one had gone home.,
“Far from it,” said John, “for now I need never be in danger any more if I just whistle. If I had had this when I lay out on the red pear, no one would ever have imagined I was drowned. A very useful present, it seems to me, and delightful.”,
“My dear Johnny! No, no!”,
“Mr. Whitney told me something about it and the reason I’m late to-day is that I got mixed up in the mess—”
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When he finished a ripple of admiration passed around the group, and to cover his embarrassment, Bob hurriedly went on to tell of Jerry’s visit and the surprise attack planned by Feather-in-the-Wind.,
He looked in again.,
“You may bring me the fishing rod,” said Father.,
“Well, then, it’s just this. Jerry was the first one of all of you to smell trouble brewing. He had been coming up to the ranch and had heard the rather good-natured grumbling that passed between all of us about the damage the dam would do to our particular kind of business. Then when Harper and Wesley—the men Hazard has told you about—began to talk seriously to him he decided that it would be best if he did some ‘secret service’ work by seeming to fall in with their plans—”
My, oh, my! Johnny Blossom hopped over every gutter he came to on his way home. First over the gutter and then back again and over again just because everything was so unspeakably joyful, because it was Christmas Eve, because Uncle Isaac was going to send some presents. They were sure to be wonderful presents, those Uncle Isaac sent!
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Developer Response,
Still, it was perfectly horrid that Tellef’s fishpole had got smashed. That was awfully bad luck. And his jacket torn, too. But how could he expect anything else when he was so horrid with his boasting and everything?
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ugprg-Wong,
It’s a Quan-Yuan
“I’ve got a better place than this to see it from,” said Mr. Whitney. “A lot of folks will be coming out here presently and too many people spoil the thing. Come along.”
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Bingbing-Li
“Don’t worry,” returned Bob. “I ought to have been able to hold him. I’m only worried about what he might do now. I’m going to wake Mr. Taylor.”
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Halin-Chen Response,
>“There’s only one way to find out, isn’t there?” said Bob. “That’s to go through it. Are you ready?”
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