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“How old are you now, Bob? Seventeen, isn’t it? Yes, yes, of course. And in a week or two you will have finished with Crossways for good?” "Well, if you will be a good girl, I will undertake that you shall go." She took her into her room, and said to her, "Go into the garden and bring me a pumpkin." Cinderella went at once, gathered the finest she could find, and brought it to her godmother, wondering the while how a pumpkin could enable her to go to the ball. Her godmother scooped it out, and, having left nothing but the rind, struck it with her wand, and the pumpkin was immediately changed into a beautiful coach, gilt all over. She then went and looked into the mouse-trap, where she found six mice, all alive. She told Cinderella to lift the door of the mouse-trap a little, and to each mouse, as it ran out, she gave a tap with her wand, and the mouse was immediately changed into a fine horse, so that at last there stood ready a handsome train of six horses, of a beautiful dappled mouse-grey colour. As she was in some difficulty as to what she could take to turn into a coachman, Cinderella said, "I will go and see if there is not a rat in the rat-trap; we will make a coachman of him." Made, alone, his father's joy;.

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Bob and Jerry were happy. The companionship which they had formed during the days of the Labyrinth and which had been interrupted, now was cemented still further. Ted Hoyt had been allowed by his father to come back to the dam and the trio had great times together. Bob was on his feet in an instant and sprang for a Mexican who had slipped into the aisle and was coming upon the Indian from behind. In the dim light everything was confused, but Bob’s fist found its mark and the man fell. The Indian was holding his own valiantly but Bob’s help had come at the right moment. Together they backed towards the door, fighting as they went. Then the lights went up and the Mexicans, fearing the consequences of their action, slipped into the nearest seats, hoping to escape notice. Johnny Blossom’s room was a very tiny one, under the slope of the roof, but small as it was, he could never keep it in order. The rug before the bed was always in a heap; and papers, skates, bows and arrows, and boots and shoes were strewn over the floor. There was a little space on the table and the commode, but on the floor you could scarcely find a bare spot. Each rising murmur which the wild wave pours..