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Harry laughed and again touched Billy's arm. "To-night ut's go back to him I wull an' the question put to him once more, an' this night, plase God, he wull likely say, 'All av ut, Harry, all av ut.'",

Next day was Sunday and Billy did not like Sundays. They meant the scrubbing of his face, ears and neck with "Old Brown Windsor" soap until it fairly cracked if he so much as smiled, and being lugged off with his parents and Anse to early forenoon Sunday School in the little frame church in the Valley. There was nothing interesting about Sunday School; it was the same old hum-drum over and over again—same lessons, same teachers, same hymns, same tunes; with Deacon Ringold's assertive voice cutting in above all the other voices both in lessons and singing and with Mrs. Scraff's shrill treble reciting, for her class's edification, her pet verse: "Am I nothing to thee, all ye who pass by?"—only Mrs. Scraff always improvised more or less on the scriptures, and usually threw the verse defiantly from her in this form: "You ain't nuthin to me, all you who pass me by.",

Maurice's white face slowly expanded in a grin. He glanced in the direction of his mother, then held out his hand to the crow with a lowspoken, "Come Croaker, ol' feller.",

Maurice looked up at her with tear-filled eyes, and tried to say something. The effort was vain; not a sound issued from his swollen lips. Billy promptly advanced to give first aid.

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With a gasp Scroggie went to earth, where he lay writhing. After a time he struggled to a sitting posture.,

"And this is the way that a look-out is to be kept aboard this ship," said Mr Lawrence with a biting insolence of scorn, and that sort of pity which enrages more than kicks or execrations. "If you don't hold to the instructions you receive from me, sir, you'll[Pg 295] soon find yourself eating black bread in a French dungeon with straw from a sty for a bed.",

"Here, you Willium," she commanded, "you drink these here salts and not a word out o' you, or I'll tan you good and plenty.",

"I cannot think of anything but sulphur for poor Mr Eagle's feet," said Miss Acton, as she approached father and daughter. "I will give you a packet for him after breakfast.[Pg 76] Is not this a morning to lift up one's heart in rejoicing? How fair is this prospect! How tender and promising this scene of garden! How quiet the old town looks upon the hill! The heart swells in gratitude to God on such a morning as this."