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"All right," gruffly assented his companion, "if you're so cock sure, it suits me all right. Come on; let's get out of this cussed woods. Remember we've got some work before us tonight.",
"But supposin' the will can't be found?" Billy looked the other boy in the face and waited for the answer.,
"And you've found the condition too difficult; isn't that so?" he asked.,
"Well, what of it? Maurice found him a soft hidin' place and good pasture on his Dad's farm, didn't he?"
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"Gosh! ain't he a terror?" Maurice exclaimed. "Say, why don't you put him in the menagerie?",
One thing Billy saw which he could not understand. The greasy surface of the shallow pond was never still, but bubbled incessantly as porridge puffs and bubbles when it boils. It was as if the slimy creatures buried in the oozy bottom belched forth their poisonous breath as they stirred in sleep.,
It had been arranged between Captain Acton and Admiral Lawrence that the latter should breakfast at half-past nine with Captain[Pg 163] Acton, who would then fill an hour with transaction of certain business which he could deal with in his own house, leaving the Admiral to amuse himself in the grounds with his pipe, and, if he chose, a telescope; after which they would walk leisurely down to Old Harbour, go on board the Minorca, and take a farewell view of the vessel with a God-speed to her new commander.,
The boy shook his head. "I dunno; them cricks shouldn't be that way; they're all spring-fed. Maybe you know?" looking straight into Hinter's eyes.
"Take your seat," commanded the teacher. "Next boy forward!" One by one the boys walked up to receive their punishment. All took it bravely.
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Mrs. Wilson stood, the picture of amazement. "Have you gone stark and ravin' crazy, Anson?" she asked sternly. Then, anger mastering her, she reached for the broom standing in the corner. Anson promptly made his escape, but as he passed the open window, he gazed wildly in at his mother and cried again: "Don't you have nuthin' to do with that gold, Ma. If you do we'll all get burnt up in our beds, er get clawed to tatters!"
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uys9l-Wong,
It’s a Quan-Yuan
This High Street was pleasantly furnished with shops: the butcher's, the owner of which shouted in talk to his customers as he dexterously chopped on his block; the baker's,[Pg 37] with its little bow-window choice with buns and cakes, and pretty shapes of bread; here too was the post-office, which was like a pedlar's tray for variety of contents.
x3ued-Xu,
Bingbing-Li
Anson nodded eagerly.
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Halin-Chen Response,
>Lucy heard a church bell strike: she started from a fit of abstraction, and, turning to move on, confronted an old man who was crossing the bridge. The face of this old man was pale and wrinkled; his hair was long and quite white. His nose streamed down his face in a thin, curling outline; his mouth when his lips were compressed might be expressed by a simple stroke of a pencil.[Pg 30] His eyes were deep-seated and extraordinarily luminous and swift in their motions, and his eyebrows, which were as white as his hair, were so thick and overhanging that they might have passed for a couple of white mice sleeping on his brow. His apparel had that dim and faded look which in fiction is associated with miserliness. His high and dingy white cravat and the tall build of his coat at the back of his head, so sloped his shoulders that they looked to make a line with his arms. He wore a faded red waistcoat which sank very low, and under it dangled a bunch of seals. His knee-breeches left painfully visible the pipe-stem shanks clothed in grey hose and terminating in large shoes, burdened with steel buckles.
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