“Then I went in an’ spoke to ’em ’s though I hadn’t heard a word, and hustled off to bed. I thought ’most all night, and decided that sister shan’t wait a day longer for me to grow up. I’m going to hustle for myself, so she can get married.”
dear-lottery-yearly-chart, The boy scudded lightly across the narrow open space to the shelter of a manzanita tree, and looked back again; but no one appeared. Did he still hear the softly quarrelling voices? He fancied so. The sudden dip of the sun behind a hill darkened the scene threateningly, and brought a return of “the creeps.”
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dear-lottery-yearly-chart “Mother,” he resumed, “I know I must freeze to some sort of business, and that mighty soon, too. But a preacher—why, he can’t be like anybody. He never has any fun.”.
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