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In the front seat of the Wallace school sat Mannel Rodd. Nell Gordon declared that he was the roundest object she had ever seen in human form. Though he had arrived at the mature age of five, he still retained that cherubic appearance which one sees in the paintings of old masters. His eyes were as round as the rather sparsely-located buttons on his shirt. His nose was a small round knob. When he opened his little round mouth to lubricate a squeaky slate pencil or perhaps to enunciate some such interesting statement as this, “The cat is on the mat,” he disclosed a row of pearly little teeth. Indeed his whole face would have been as round as the moon, were it not that his chin took an unexpected little saucer-like curve in the very middle of it.,“My racer has only one eye anyways,” said Betty defiantly as she twined a piece of nasturtium vine round the noble brow of the victor.,“Put some sunshine into your voices children,” admonished Nell.,“Well, time is near up younguns; has any one a question to arsk?”,In the short moments that had passed since their coming the Sheriff saw that the fire had gained perilously. Instead of sparks great flaming brands dropped all around them; the crests of the ravine were sheets of fire that swept downward, wrapping every tree and shrub in their path, making of the pines huge towers of flame.,Vigorously cleaning up the still bewildered victim, Mrs. Wopp hurled fresh orders.,The perturbed lady wisely let the question pass not being absolutely clear herself as to the operation involved in the casting of lots. She hastened to take up the thread of the story.,“Never mind the floors, Billy. You’ve worked hard already; run off and have a good time.”,“No, no! Don’t, mother! I’ll run away! I’ll—” He groaned and left his sentence unfinished.,Finally, Ebenezer Wopp’s musings, which had been gathering force as he worked, burst into speech. For a quiet man he became almost oratorical. Then he fell to soliloquizing audibly.,“Run, Billy! You left the door open—she’ll get the dinner!” Mrs. Bennett cautioned, hurrying out herself to reckon the loss.,“Peter Stolway, may I arsk you to tell out loud what you was whisperin’?”.