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Mrs. Wilson, arms folded on the white table-cloth, was gazing out of the window now. Perhaps she saw a poor old horse, belly deep in luscious grass, making up for the fasts of hard and stern days, mercifully behind it forever now and enjoying life to the full—the new life which Billy had helped to purchase. "Faith an' ain't I alone enough to suit ye?" laughed Harry. "Would ye have me put the cat out, thin? Now, phwat is ut?" "Looks like a good feedin' place, Moll," he addressed the spaniel as he paddled slowly across to the far shore of the slough. "Good grass here fer hidin', too; but not much chance of findin' a down bird without a good dog, an' I've got her—eh girlie?".

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He lifted the basket to the counter and, taking the parcels from it, carefully emptied their contents back into the drawers from which they had been filled. Then from beneath the counter he drew out a box and with exquisite pains filled each of the empty bags and the cracker-box with sawdust. He tied the bags, packed them in the basket, tucked a roll of tea lead in the bottom, to give the basket weight, and placed it on the counter. Then he went outside to sit on the bench and await Billy's return. "Mr Lawrence paints the voyage to the West Indies in very tempting colours," answered Lucy. "When, Tom, when?" asked Ringold, eagerly. "He's gone," Maurice answered his chum's look. "Took to his heels when the lightnin' struck that elm. The shock knocked us both down. He was gone when I come to.".