"But I ain't, Bill. Cross my heart, I ain't," protested Anson. "Why should I be?",
"We will now have—" resumed the teacher, then paused to glare angrily at the stove. From every crack in its rusty sides was pouring forth a whitish-yellow smoke that gripped the throat and smelled like a breath from the very pit of darkness. Mr. Johnston attempted to proceed and failed dismally. He was choking, as was every boy and girl in the room.,
"An' if we do," asked Billy eagerly, "will you agree to use your power to help us find the money an' will?".
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