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Wide o'er the waves her shadowy veil she draws.,

“You’ll go into the water, youngsters!” shouted some one from the shore. It was Pilot Stiansen.,

Why! There he was back again. “Six minutes and eight seconds going,” he shouted, “and eight minutes and one second coming back!”,

My, oh my! All that money for a fishing rod, thought Johnny, still dancing gleefully around Grandmother. But all at once Grandmother started up eagerly and began to talk fast:

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Jerry recognized the type at once. It was a desert rat, one of those old men who, lured by the dream of gold, haunt the desert, usually alone. Years pass over their heads in the search which never ends. At last the gold mine that they will find some day becomes merely the excuse not the aim of the unending pilgrimage. The desert, the loneliness is claiming them. If they found a mine worth the developing, probably they would sell it and blow in the proceeds and be off again as soon as possible. They have been too long away from civilization for anything to surprise them. The desert is mysterious, the loneliness makes everything possible.,

He had bitten into the cake before he remembered that he never in the world was going to take any more goodies from Miss Melling. “Thank you.” He bowed low, with his mouth crammed full of cake. “Thank you.” Of course he couldn’t possibly say that he wouldn’t have the cake when she put it right under his nose that way. He had thought of her asking him to go into her room to be treated to cookies and jelly. That was what he had meant he would not do.,

'When the marquis married Maria de Vellorno, which was about this period, he designed to quit Mazzini for Naples. His son was to accompany him, but it was his intention to leave you, who were both very young, to the care of some person qualified to superintend your education. My circumstances rendered the office acceptable, and my former friendship for your mother made the duty pleasing to me. The marquis was, I believe, glad to be spared the trouble of searching further for what he had hitherto found it difficult to obtain—a person whom inclination as well as duty would bind to his interest.',

Oh, pshaw! It was raining. Johnny Blossom turned a scowling face toward the window. Just what one might expect—to have it rain the very first day of vacation! It always did, always. Funny kind of rain, anyhow—coming down in a regular slant. Perfectly horrid. He had planned to do so much today—be “boatman,” for instance.