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“This stove is not drawin’ any too good, an’ what with these pipes an’ the parlor pipes not actin’ christian-like my eyes run warter orl day long. Ebenezer Wopp, I sees a job ahead fer you. My patience is wore out an’ this very day you’ll git at the pipes and git the soot cleaned out.”,“That big sand pile the kids made last week for a fort can be the Sierras, and we’ll tunnel, and have a loop, and—”,Moses was not easily satisfied. His attitude was always that of one who has dined on an undersized shrimp while expecting a ten-course banquet.,The child was “boiling inside,” yet she believed Bouncer’s life depended on her obedience. And anyway, Billy would come in a minute. Oh, why wasn’t he there now!,“Betty Wopp,” she exclaimed, “you couldn’t be no wetter ef you’d fell in the big slough. Come on to the house an’ change yer clothes. St. Elmo ’ll need warshin’, too, I reckon.”,“Avaunt, hesitating noddy! The angel child is quite safe!” Bess waved an arm, partly bare and brown in spots.,As he climbed down, reaching from branch to branch, very cautiously, he knew not why, he was suddenly halted by the sound of low voices. Carefully he crept nearer. A tiny hut came in view, with an open door, and the glint of fire within. A man was standing outside, smoking a pipe, yet wearing hat, coat, and gloves, as if about to set off. He was very large. His clothes were new and showy, too bright in color, too large of check. His watch chain was massive; the big diamond out of place with his colored shirt; and the soft silk handkerchief he drew from his pocket was a brilliant red, and the largest Billy had ever seen. Another man, in the doorway, was smaller and bareheaded. His sleeves were rolled up, and his hands were stained.,“O, Mar, jist a teeny-weeny brown crust, it carn’t hurt me.”,“Where is the dern dog hurt?” commiserated Moses.,“Come, Betty Girl,” said Moses, “Mar wants you to go to bed.”,“Ebenezer Wopp, I’ve tarlked to you till I’m black in the face, but it’s jist wastin’ valyble breath. Yer brains is allers wool-gatherin’. The hammer’s in yer hip-pocket.”,With the gracious air of a duchess, Maria Mifsud dropped into the oat-bin about a peck of the vegetables. They were coiffured and manicured correctly and doubtless considered themselves the elite of the carota species..