And Billy, suddenly remembering who was being cheered, slid to his seat sheepishly, a cold feeling down his back, uncomfortable heat in his cheeks.,
“My conscience! How lovely and stylish you look!” The child, accustomed to elegant dress, praised with discriminating eyes.,
“I’ll mow in the morning. Let me stay and visit Pretty—Harold, I mean—till sundown; can’t I, mamma?” He patted her cheek with a vigor that made her wink. “You know you can’t refuse your darling boy,” he wheedled..
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