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“So you want me to tell you something about the dam?” said Mr. Whitney, smiling at his rodman. The two were sitting on the side of a hill overlooking the construction work several days after Bob had been promoted from the office to the proud position of being the Chief’s aide. He had been on a message to the cofferdam gang and had returned to find the boss seemingly loafing. When he saw there might be a few free moments before he was set to work again he ventured some questions regarding the thing that was of most interest to him.,

The next morning Johnny awoke early and was wide awake at once. That fishing rod from Uncle Isaac—out on the veranda—suppose some one had taken it! He put on his clothes in the greatest haste. Later he would wash himself and dress properly, but the only thing now was to see whether the fishing rod was safe. Yes, wonderfully enough, there it was. No one had touched it, so far as he could see.,

“That wasn’t much to do,” said Tellef. What it was that wasn’t much to do, Tellef didn’t say. Johnny only stared out over the gray-blue splashing waves.,

Again the company scattered throughout the park. This was the time for the sack-racing and other contests in jumping, running, and singing. Father gave out the prizes, and then refreshments were served again.

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Light-hearted now, Johnny Blossom ran through the garden, fastening the gate carefully, while at the window an old face peered out from among the plants, through tear-misted spectacles. Then Aunt Grenertsen took the stamp and pasted it on the window pane nearest where she sat.,

During the evening a tender and timid respect distinguished the behaviour of the count towards Julia, who, contented with the certainty of being loved, resolved to conceal her sentiments till an explanation of his abrupt departure from Mazzini, and subsequent absence, should have dissipated the shadow of mystery which hung over this part of his conduct. She observed that the marchioness pursued her with steady and constant observation, and she carefully avoided affording the count an opportunity of renewing the subject of the preceding interview, which, whenever he approached her, seemed to tremble on his lips.,

Carlstrom was a Swede, with a big black moustache whose ends stuck straight out in the air. He looked exactly like a stylish colonel to say the least—a very cross colonel though! No, there was no use going to the stable.,

“But I haven’t any fine clothes,” said Madame Bakke.