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Betty had a conviction, though an unspoken one, that Moses was the primary cause of Job’s infirmity. The slowest of a large family of striped fluffy turkeys to emerge from the shell, he had been assisted in his efforts by the impatient Moses. Betty felt sure that the clumsy fingers of the boy had ruined the little turkey’s eye. The accusation, however, was too dreadful to be put into words. “Can he mean ‘prodigy,’ do you think, May Nell?” Edith’s eyes were mischievous. “Last November,” piped Evelyn..

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“Yeh, Mar says I’m a reglar jographer I like it so much.” In his distress his wandering eye discovered a bunch of vine ties, short pieces of soft hemp rope for fastening vines to their supporting stakes. They were hanging against the rear of the coop, and a gust of wind had blown them into view. Like a flash he sprang and caught them; tied several together in quick, strong knots, and lashed himself to the little tree. Then he took up the board again, poised it at a perpendicular, calculated the angle, and slowly dropped it. Would the end reach the sill? No, it was too short! In overalls, the color of which was entirely unrecognizable, Moses began to help his father carry through the house sooty lengths of pipe. Very carefully and gingerly they stepped as the eagle eye of Mrs. Wopp was upon them, and they knew that a full battery of reprimands and warnings was at hand. “We’ll play there’s a strike in the saw-mills, Dutchy, and this is scab labor,” Billy excused amiably. And for a fact the white cotton string carried the messages quite safely from the “Front,” where Jimmy and George laid out the “line” over wonderful grades, across impossible gorges; and “wired” back for further orders. Harry Potter was the operator at the “Front,” and Vilette,—“Women do operate, you know,” she said,—Vilette was the proud holder of “the key” at Headquarters, where Clarence Hammond strutted around as Messenger; and because he was the “son of the Boss,” bullied his Cousin Harry unmercifully..