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All the floors at Kingthorpe were as shining as a mirror. Mother said they were waxed. It was a good thing the floors at home were not waxed, for it would be an awful job to take care of them. When he and Asta played tag around the dining-room table for instance—my, oh my! but there would be a good many scratches on the floor! Queer, that rich people must have every thing so fine! For his part, he thought such elegance was only a bother.,“Sort of gets me,” was Jerry’s enthusiastic comment. “Somehow the thought of shady woods sounds mighty attractive after the dose of sun and desert I’ve had the last couple of years. How about you, Bob?”,“Yes.” Johnny stared at his mother’s tear-stained face.,“No, I do not believe he is.”,However, one morning in the first week of vacation, Father said: “You may begin to ride now, John. I had a talk with Carlstrom yesterday.”,“Far from it,” answered Johnny Blossom, somewhat offended.,One thing was sure. After what he had seen he could no longer pretend even to himself that Jerry was not mixed up somehow in what certainly seemed to be a disgraceful business. He could put no other explanation on it. Although it was hard to think that the boy who had shared the adventure of the Labyrinth with him could be guilty of anything really wrong, he realized the time had come when he could not let anything but facts sway him. Jerry was on the other side without a doubt. Most probably he was the connecting link between the cattlemen who wished to stir up trouble for the dam by means of the Mexicans, and the leaders of the Mexicans themselves.,The servants, in obedience to the commands of the marquis, assembled at night in the north hall. The air of desolation which reigned through the south buildings, and the circumstance of their having been for so many years shut up, would naturally tend to inspire awe; but to these people, who firmly believed them to be the haunt of an unquiet spirit, terror was the predominant sentiment.,The organ now swelled in mournful harmony; and the voices of the assembly chanted in choral strain, a low and solemn requiem to the spirit of the departed.,“I guess he thinks the Gringo got mixed up with a charge of dynamite!” was the boy’s reflection as he scuttled up to his room.,"Certainly, my good woman," she replied, and the beautiful girl at once stooped and rinsed out the jug, and then, filling it with water from the clearest part of the spring, she held it up to the woman, continuing to support the jug, that she might drink with greater comfort. Having drunk, the woman said to her, "You are so beautiful, so good and kind, that I cannot refrain from conferring a gift upon you," for she was really a fairy, who had taken the form of a poor village woman, in order to see how far the girl's kind-heartedness would go. "This gift I make you," continued the fairy, "that with every word you speak, either a flower or a precious stone will fall from your mouth.",“I don’t care what you came for,” flashed Bob. “Don’t try to sell out the other side now! It’s bad enough as it is without your double-crossing your new friends!”.
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