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“Billy,” she called. “Oh, Betsey, give it to me!” he whispered in agony of soul. “Don’t let up’s long’s I live! Maybe I’ve killed her!” There they all were; those who had come first to the house, and many others: Jean, Bess Carter, Charley Strong, Max Krieber, Jackson Carter, the little colored boy, standing aloof, and others, large and small. All in a line they stood, and shouted up at him:.
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“I did hunt the aigs,” lied the unhappy Moses who was afraid he was going to miss something. “Well, why don’t you go along, Mrs. Lancaster? Don’t prize babies have attendants?” “Don’t stan’ starin’ there like Betty’s chiner doll, go git another of my pies.” “Feel that muscle,” he said a moment later; bending his arm, and pressing her fingers to it. “That’s got to grow by a broom or hoe, something besides football!”.
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