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What matter if the telegraph poles that were to be just twelve feet—that is, twelve inches—fell short or long sometimes.,CHAPTER X SIR THOMAS KATZENSTEIN,“She’s at Vine Hill—miles away; we’ll beat her if we hurry.” His words were a bit breathless.,“Look he’s been here,” said Betty, pointing to a small footprint in the moist soil, “An’ he’s headed down the crick.”,Another time he would have gone quickly enough, for he liked work as little as the average boy, often shirked it; though when he forgot himself in his task, the joy of doing it well held him to it. But May Nell’s coming and the added expense still troubled him; and it was a resolute face he turned to his mother. “No, mamma, you shan’t get down on your marrow bones to these old floors. It’s only me that needs to go on the knees, you know.” His eyes twinkled.,Fight gleamed in the big man’s eye, and for the breath of an instant he hesitated.,For a horror-stricken moment no one spoke. Even the dumb creatures were still; and Buzz, thinking it all for his benefit, watched open-mouthed for the next act in the play.,Arrived at home almost bursting with information, the child recounted to his astonished mother a long complicated story of how “theh was a lot of bad men and they weh et by a big fish, the big fish met a man on the woad called Jonah and asked him what he was doing on the woad and Jonah pwayed weel hahd and wode on the fish and a big wind blowed him off, just like Lila William’s hen-house.”,Another sound in a somewhat higher key was heard. Moses had simply modulated in his domestic symphony of labor from a major task to a minor one. As a change and refreshing recreation, Moses was allowed to turn the small wheat-mill. Ninety soul-stirring turns it required to empty the hopper once, and he must turn out enough flour for a batch of bread. His youthful soul was in revolt at such servitude. He had no sympathy to squander on the children of Israel in bondage vile. Making bricks for Pharoah was infantile amusement compared to his labor.,On the morning after Nell Gordon’s arrival, she admired the lovely array of fairy-like trumpets that seemed to smile a welcome from the glass bowl in the centre of the table. A tiny spider had been hidden in the heart of one of the blooms, and was weaving a net of filmy loveliness from flower to flower.,Now a steamboat was on hand. At odd times for weeks, Billy, Harold, and one or two other boys, under secrecy of lock and key, had been slowly bringing to completion a wonderful structure.,“Naw,” answered the boy, “What’d Mar say? she’d put a tin ear on me.”.