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See!" said Archer excitedly. "And herre's America " "Yes, and there it is again," said Tom. "That must be Yankees, see? Something or other Yankees. It's about a mile long." "It's got one two three wait a minute it's got thirty-seven letters to it. Go-o-od night!" "And that must be Arracourt," said Tom. "I heard about that place it ain't so far from Nancy. Gee, I wish we could read that letter!"
"Did we swim across the lake or didn't we?" he demanded of Archer, roused out of his wonted stolidness. "Surre, we did!" "Then I give it up," said Tom resignedly. "The compass says north we're going north. This is the very same toymaker." "Go-o-od night!" said Archer, with even more than his usual vehemence.
What's this! No-o! I will not forgive this! I'll go to court. What's that?" and suddenly he screamed in a shrill voice, out-stretching his hand toward Foma: "Bind him!" Foma was laughing. "You cannot bind the truth, you can't do it! Even bound, truth will not grow dumb!" "Go-o-od!" drawled out Kononov in a dull, broken voice. "See here, gentlemen of the merchant class!" rang out Mayakin's voice.
"Coming, gran', right away now," replied the child. "The coffee's hot, too. Don't it smell go-o-od? But there's only one " "What?" queried the voice. "Nothing," said the child. She took a single piece of bread from a box, toasted it for a moment, put it on a plate, poured a cup of coffee, dished out a mess of the porridge, and carried it all into the next room.
"Oh, I know," said Archer; "it means Gerrman officerrs are billeted therre. Go-o-od night! Not for us!" The old man did not seem quite to understand, but he turned again to his map. "Here now is ze new road," he said, drawing it with his shaky old hand. "From ze Rhine road it runs south so.
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