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“Why, John dear, aren’t you eating anything?” asked Mother that noon.,

No one was in the sitting room at home, nor in the library; but from Mother’s room there came a sound as of some one crying. Johnny Blossom tramped in. There lay Mother on the couch, and Father sat by her side, and they were both sobbing as hard as they could.,

Since becoming an aide to the Chief, Bob had not entirely given up his unofficial inspection trips. The dam and all the operations that were the building of it still fascinated him and his spare time was given to roaming over the job. So good an observer was he, that time after time he surprised Mr. Whitney with his knowledge of some obscure detail of the work.,

At last, however, he decided to take the chance of having enough. Going over the stack of sticks, he selected the smallest and those that had already been somewhat burned, as they would be the easiest to catch fire again. Then he separated his flannel ravelings into three piles and put them against the door.

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Bob paid no attention to this outburst, letting it go past his ears. Wesley’s voice from behind took up the refrain.,

How still, how still the world was! How fresh and cool! The sun was shining now on the big pine trees back of the house and their trunks were deep red in the strong light. What a fragrance came from the garden—the rich scent of roses, particularly—and how very damp the garden path was! My, oh, my! The dew was certainly like pearls, scattered over the grass—shining white pearls. Johnny Blossom looked at the clock on the church tower. Two minutes before five. Pshaw! so early! Oh, well! Never mind. It was all right. He could do what he liked until the rest of the family got up.,

“It will have to be awfully thick, won’t it, to be able to hold the water?”,

Next it was the telegraph operator, Mr. Nilsen. “Well, I must say! If here isn’t the person every one is talking about—and as large as life!”