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“But you haven’t told us what hurries you so,” Jean called, while Billy was already sprinting away. “Better quit tarlkin’, Moses, an’ let the picter show go on so’s we kin hev supper, everythin’s laid an’ ready.” “Wharfmaster, ahoy!” Billy hailed, as they came near the water’s edge. “Is all ship-shape?”.
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Conrad
Watchful Mrs. Bennett was not far away. She stopped the boy’s noise, and cuddled the bereft one once more. “What is it, child? You are to be brave, you know.” “My father didn’t let my mother work when he was alive; but he—he died.” Billy bent lower over his weeding, and both were quiet. “Look he’s been here,” said Betty, pointing to a small footprint in the moist soil, “An’ he’s headed down the crick.” The boy went into the street again, mounted[208] and rode rapidly round the corner. His own home was across the way; his mother might see him at the office and call him. But once out of sight he stopped to consider what came next. Who was the right man to tell after the Doctor? The Sheriff!.
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