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winzo da alive and bubbling over with excitement on the subject. CHAPTER XIX.—BETTY’S ILLNESS.,Yet only a part of the long day went to study. They spent delightful hours rehearsing the stories of favorite books, and otherwise amused themselves by improvising tales of marvellous adventure. The school children sent notes, the latest school jokes, and original pictures, interesting if sometimes not quite clear as to meaning. Clarence indited his first letter. Here it is:,Elinor's eyes met hers gratefully. "I'll be so glad to have you tell me what I should do," she said with relief and instant friendliness in her soft voice. "I'm just a beginner, you know. I've never been in a class in my life and I'm rather scared about it.",I have turned out that light lots of times, but I felt it best to let Tom see me in a full light when we were alone. It is well I did! At first it stunned him—and it is a compliment to any woman to stun Tom Pollard. But Tom doesn't stay stunned long.,Hannah Ann and Henry had disappeared with the remains of the feast and the four were alone in the big solid structure, with hay mows on either side of their banqueting floor and a smell of dry, sweet herbage in the air.，"What do you say? I thought you loved the girl?"，“We can’t round the point,” said Tellef.，"Oh, never mind your young and innocent days: we never heard of them," says Dorothy, impatiently. "Do get on to it."“What a funny word! What do you mean?”

Fisher said, "No; I see nothing except buffalo," for he was looking across the river to the other side, and not down into the water.,"Think of it now, Paul,—now before it is too late," entreats she, piteously. "Try to pray: there is always mercy.",Judith's face assumed a smooth blankness that passed unnoticed by both Elinor and Patricia, now intent on finishing their breakfast and getting off.,"Well?" says Sir Nicholas, as a deadly silence continues for some time after their departure, "what do you think of her?",In the hours of joy that followed, joy known only to boys and farms in conjunction, Billy,—and it was unusual for him,—more than once recalled his mother’s words; heeded them to the extent of bidding Harold a reluctant good-bye when the sun was still blazing high above the horizon. But when, on his way home, he came to the branching of the road his good resolution weakened. He looked back. The sun was surely more than an hour high. He would have time to go up the hill road to the “Ha’nt.” And, beside that, he wished to look at the river where its divided flow encircled a tiny, shrub-grown island.,"It doesn't seem worth while," she began, but Patricia broke in impatiently:,The question stung the other as a leather lash stings quivering flesh.,"What did she say to you?",‘The antlered monarch of the waste,Ray when the sun shines on your bed,,"Billy!" she whispered, almost forgetting caution in her anxiety. "What is it?",Harry, who had picked up his hat and taken his tin whistle from his bosom, shook his head. "There's no sech place, I'm thinkin'," he answered..