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Peterson saw it in the mirror, and asked, between strokes: "What are you going to do?" "Looking up trains." While Peterson was splashing in the washbowl, Bannon took his turn at the mirror. "How's the Duluth job getting on?" asked Peterson, when Bannon had finished, and was wiping his razor. "All right 'most done. Just a little millwright work left, and some cleaning up."
Joseph Millard had come to Reginald a little time after the discovery of the baronet's death, and had told him the contents of the new will. "Master told us with his own lips that he had left you heir to the estates, sir," said the valet. "There was no need for it to be kept a secret, he said; and we signed the will as witnesses Peterson, the butler, and me."
Beside her a tall youth, who represented Peleg Peterson, in the garb of a carpenter, with a tool-box on the ground, and in his hands a wooden doll, which he was carving for the child.
He was working in the woods for Rodgers & Peterson, and is now on the drive." "Dear me! it must be hard for you to have him away so much." "It is, sir. But he will stay home after this. He has earned enough this winter to make the last payment on our farm.
He never give me any trouble like some of the men do that's been here. The trouble with most of them is that they get drunk on pay-days and come home simply disgusting." Bannon passed on without comment. During the evening he saw Peterson on the distributing floor, helping the man from the electric light company rig up a new arc light.
But Peterson was now calm and much in his element, for a better skipper than he never sailed a craft on the Great Lakes. "I think she's going to blow great guns," said he, "and like enough the other engine'll pop any minute." "Yes?" I answered, stepping to the wheel. "In which case we go to Davy Jones about when, Peterson?" "We don't go!" he rejoined.
Nobody, concluded Axel Peterson, feeling a chill of nervousness sweep him as the window-sash gave and the window opened, showing the two clerks ready, with their pens in hand.
"Can't keep my pipe lit!" he called to me, as I stood beside him; and at last, Peterson, in a real time of danger, seemed altogether happy and altogether free of apprehension beyond that regarding his pipe. At the first breaking of the storm I had, of course, ordered all ports closed, and had sent both my young companions to the ladies' cabin aft, as the driest part of the boat.
Tom's voice trailed off into a whisper and he swayed on his feet. "Cotch him!" cried Eradicate. "Cotch him! Massa Tom's hurt!" and only just in time did Mr. Peterson clutch the young inventor in his arms. For Tom, white of face, had fallen back in a dead faint. "Carry him into the house!" cried Mr. Swift, as he came running to where Mr. Peterson was loosening Tom's collar.
The squawking rattled the receiver and Peterson winced. "Look, commissioner," he broke in, "I can't put a stop to those stories. What? I said I can't put a stop to the stories for one reason. They're true." The only sound that came from the phone was the steady hum of the line. "Are you there, John?" Peterson asked. There was an indistinct mumble from Washington. "Now listen carefully, John.
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