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She took a step, but he caught her hand. “I don’t care if I am, he mustn’t see—no one must,—I didn’t mean you should. Besides, I walked home and brought my wheel; I’ll live, I guess,—I’m too mean to kill.” He put his stiff, swollen hand over his face. “It’s Jimmy that’s in danger.” A new note of terror came into his voice as he remembered the pale face and limp arm; he had never seen a fighting boy look so before. “I’m afraid Jimmy’s hurt inside, mother. What if he should die?”,

“‘One burnished sheet of living gold,,

Thoroughly enjoying her task, Betty flitted from flower to flower until she had gathered an armful of the lovely blossoms. Then visiting the vegetable beds she appropriated a few feathery sprays of asparagus. Returning to the house, she made up her bouquets. One, a great mass of yellow, lightly flecked with green, she set on a small table which stood in the darkest corner of the dining-room, then stood back to view the effect.,

“She can’t, you know; she and sister have to work hard to make what we spend now. I don’t do half enough myself.”

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Moses came to the kitchen door pushing an untemperamental-looking wheel-barrow with a leg in splints, that is, a leg of the vehicle. The barrow was filled with carrots. He was accompanied by Job and Henry. Behind him trooped a merry laughing group of expectant children.,

The basket piled high with snowy linen and cotton seemed almost to overflow the brim. Betty pressed the clothes down with her brown hands, while the complaining boy enlarged on the sordid details of that trying wash-day and on the manner in which his mother had teased him. The child’s sense of humor outbalanced even her sympathy and a peal of laughter rang out. Her laugh was a long delicious trill, as though a bird had dropped from the clouds singing still with the sunrise tangled in its notes. Moses paused long enough for a procession of commas and semicolons to pass by. Then seeing his disappointment in her apparent lack of sympathy, Betty hastened to console him.,

“Singe my hair ef I do, let’s hev some more doin’s,” rebelled Moses.,

“Moses!” called husband and wife, simultaneously. Mrs. Wopp’s voice spanned an interval of about a dozen semi-tones, and as it always grew in volume in direct ratio to the emergency of the duty to be imposed, the last syllable of her son’s name fell on that wretched boy’s ear like a clap of thunder. Mr. Wopp’s accents remained on nearly all occasions at the same even degree of meekness. Nature had not given him the temperament to indulge in crescendos or double fortes.