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“Mother! Mother!” shrieked Asta. “Here’s a piece of a finger, with your big shears, lying on the attic stairs!”,"That is a pretty verse," she says, quietly. "But I do not know the poem. I should like to read it.",CHAPTER VII. THE RIVALS.,“Come, old lady,” encouraged Eric.,"Have they anything to do with the death of Maurice?",“But of course you were very careful how you picked them?”,"Have you ever read Shelley?" asks he, presently, puzzled by the extreme serenity of her manner.,He unpropped the root-house door and threw it open. Maurice hesitated on the threshold, peering into the darkness.,"Sit ye down, lads, sit ye down," cried the hospitable Harry. "Begobs, but it's a fine brace av byes ye are, an' no mistake. Wull ye be afther suppin' a bit wid me? The repast is all but spread an' it's full welcome ye are, both.",Tonight as Hinter rode through the pine-scented gloom the light-house keeper sat in his big chair beside the window that looked upon the lake. Spent from a trying fit of coughing, his nerves crying for the rest which was denied him, the sick man had gazed across to where the shuttle of sunset was weaving its fabric of changing colors upon sky and water. But he had not seen those glad lights; had not heard the cries of the haven-seeking gulls or the soft plaintive notes of the night birds from the Point forest. The lights had flashed and departed unseen, the wild calls had been voiced and sunk to silence unheard, because a tenderer light, which had belonged to this, his own hour, had vanished; a sweeter song than even night birds could voice had been stilled—the light in his Erie's eyes and the low notes from her glad heart.,"Are you going to promulgate that doctrine at the Suffrage League?" he asked, beginning to turn the knob.,"Assuredly. You loved Maurice--".