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“Ah Miss Gordon, I see you love the music too,” he murmured in her ear.,

“You remember that story about a man who died for love of a girl because he knew he ought not to marry her? I thought that sort kind of noble, but you said there was nobler. Do you remember?”,

Billy beamed upon her. He adored her, as did every child in town.,

Mrs. Wopp repeated the words, slowly rolling them on her tongue as though to extract every ounce possible of scriptural nutriment, “So they took up Joner and carst him forth inter the sea.”

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As Clarence depicted the terror of the father, lest his arrow miss the mark and kill his son, Moses rose from his chair in breathless suspense. However, the arrow cleft the apple and left the boy unscathed, and the relieved Moses, sinking back in his chair, recovered himself sufficiently to murmur “What an orful chanct fer anyone ter take!”,

“Never mind, Mosey, we’ll tell Miss Gordon. She’ll give them sulphur an’ brimstone to-morrer.”,

Bess, though not quite twelve, was a striking girl, larger than most women; with a mind as unusual as her body. Poetry, music, mythology, she fed upon these as a plant upon the sunshine. She was not satisfied with ordinary speech, but continually wove into the most commonplace events the glamour of romance and poetic words. A wise mother had stood between her and the jeers of the thoughtless, that she might have a normal girlhood; and Billy’s mother and sister helped to make it possible for her to play comfortably with those of her own age. Yet it was a surprise to the stranger to see this dark-eyed, magnificent woman-creature in short skirts romping with children.,

It was Saturday afternoon on a busy street in the city. Moses Wopp and Clarence Crump, at whose home the former was spending the week end, were on their way to the skating-rink. If they had wanted to skate there, the streets would have accommodated them with a sufficiently smooth surface, as an early frost had rimed the pavement.