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“Yes,” said Johnny Blossom, for he saw that Jeremias expected him to answer. Johnny prevailed; poor little Katrina agreed that she would come. “I declare if there isn’t the Kingthorpe heir himself, hiring out as boatman!” came a voice from the wharf..

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“No use,” said Johnny. “I’ll have to stand under the tree and hold the basket, while you shake the apples into it. Then they won’t whack on the ground and bruise themselves.” “Yes,” was the smiling answer, “and since I have seen for myself, I’d rather Bob became an engineer on this Service than anything else—excluding, of course, a lawyer!” When the King of the Peacocks' dinner hour arrived, there was nothing for him either in the saucepan or in the larder; his attendants looked askance at one another, and the King was in a terrible rage. "It seems, then, that I am to have no dinner; but see that the spit is put before the fire, and let me have some good roast meat this evening." The evening came, and the Princess said to Fretillon, "Go to the best kitchen in the town and bring me a joint of good roast meat." Fretillon obeyed, and knowing no better kitchen than that of the King, he went softly in, while the cooks' backs were turned, took the meat, which was of the best kind, from the spit, and carried it back in his basket to the Princess. She sent him back without delay to the larder, and he carried off all the preserves and sweetmeats that had been prepared for the King. “Gee whiz!” ejaculated Bob. “This is worse than anything I’ve tackled before—ever!”.