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Billy entered with a cat under each arm. “Geewhillikins,” he introduced, “the best fighter in town,” and put down a stub-tailed, gray cat, half as large as the house pets, with “tom-cat” speaking from every hair of him. “I think mamma’s partial,—she lets sister’s cats come in the house, but not mine.” “Fer the love o’ Mike, kid, how did you git here?” said Moses, rousing the small sleeper. “Gosh, but yer face needs warshin’.” “Ugh! Confound their impudence, I’ll make them listen yet to something else than rag.”.
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Conrad
“The Sheriff tells me a thousand dollars will be paid to your account as soon as the State settles, Billy. Here’s something else for you.” Yet they had already stopped, turned, and driven quickly to the house, hurried by the frenzy in the boy’s tones. Geewhillikins did not wait for four feet to be on the floor to spring at the plate. He put his paws on one pile of meat, and began to gobble the other, growling savagely. The house cats drew back, curled their tails around their forefeet, and looked at the gorger in calm disdain. He sat by the table in his dressing-room with angry storm-swept countenance. He had been capturing loud plaudits with his rag-time, until intoxicated with success, he swept into a tornado of music by Moskowski. The applause died away; two ladies in the front row began chatting. The enraged artist jumped from the piano-stool, and shouting “Pigs!” raced from the platform..
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