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THE next morning Billy had a “temperature.” His mother decided against school for that day. At first he was glad. He didn’t care if he had forty temperatures. He thought almost anything in the way of fever was cooler than he would feel if the boys—and the girls—should see his face. Not that this was the first time he had been scratched in a fight; before he had not cared who knew. To-day it was different,—there were things about this fight he wished he could forget, even though he knew Jimmy was not likely to die. “For three days an’ three nights there was no sleep fer his eyes nor slumber fer his eyelets.” “I’d love to, Billy,” Mrs. Lancaster whispered; “I’ve never liked being grown up.”.
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Conrad
“This here thing looks like a mule with his ribs druv in an’ stan’in’ on his haunches. What d’ye call it?” He outrivalled all his efforts of the week, being recalled again and again. Betty was delighted with the nods and smiles that the great man was directing towards Nell and herself and Mrs. Newman; but from his attitude and the blushes of Nell, more than one in the audience knew who was the fountain of his inspiration. The hopes of one stalwart young man in particular rapidly fell to zero. And the shouts that greeted this fiat shook the old barn and made the hens in the hay cackle with fright. CHAPTER XIX.—BETTY’S ILLNESS..
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