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"Teacher," he said. "She's gotta be told about this. You know how she always hoped——","She lives at Uphill Cottage, and lay in of a very fine baby a fortnight yesterday, and has done very poorly since. You cannot tell me how she does?",It was Sunday. Anson, with eyes close-shut and suds dripping from his freckled nose, was having his weekly ear and neck cleansing, his mother's strong hands applying the coarse wash-cloth. Billy stood by, anticipating his turn, his eyes straying occasionally to the long "muzzle-loader" hanging on the deer-prong rack. Tomorrow the duck-season opened and he was wondering how he was going to contrive to sneak the old gun down and give it a thorough cleaning. Suddenly he became aware that operations in the vicinity of the wash-basin had become suspended. He glanced across to find his mother's gaze fixed sternly upon him. Anson was looking mightily pleased.,Anson was grinning as he came up. "Kind'a weak on the pins, eh?" he greeted, "Ma told me I was to come across here an' see you didn't get into no mischief.","Yes, Ma'am; ain't you agoin', Ma?",Anson's mouth fell open in terror. "You don't mean—" he commenced, then gulped, unable to proceed.,Mrs. Wilson held out her hand. "Harry O'Dule," she said, her voice unsteady, "I always knowed you had the makin's of a man in you. I'm gladder than I kin say.","Oh, Jerusalem!" gasped Billy, "An' me without my rabbit foot charm." He realized where Croaker was leading him—straight to the haunted house. He wiped his streaming face on his sleeve and determined he'd go through with it.,"Gollies, no. I never thought—',"Bet ye I am.","You are a Portia," said Captain Acton.,"Well," she cried in a voice of tremulous eagerness, "have you heard of her?".