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Henry Rooter had strongly advised him against entering the house. "You better not," he said earnestly. "Honest, you better not, Herbert!" "Well, we got apple dumplings for dinner," Herbert said, his tone showing the strain of mental uncertainty. "Eliza told me this morning we were goin' to have 'em. I kind of hate to go in, but I guess I better, Henry."

"Henry Rooter told me he made you believe you were goin' to have a grapevine climbin' up from inside of you because you ate some grapes with the seeds in 'em. He says you thought you'd haf to get a carpenter to build a little arbour so you could swallow it for the grapevine to grow on. He says " Florence had become an angry pink.

The soil on which it does best is an alluvial loam, and, if possible, it should not be more than 30 feet to water, as the tree, being a very deep rooter, will penetrate a free soil to that depth. It will do on other free loamy soils, but will not make the same growth as when planted in free alluvials.

When roar once again subsided into waiting suspense a strong-lunged Wayne rooter yelled, "Watch him run!" The outfielders edged out deeper and deeper. MacNeff called low to Salisbury: "Don't let this fellow walk! Keep them high and make him hit!" It was evident that Place had gotten a line on one Wayne player. Salisbury delivered the ball and Reddy whirled with his level swing.

Henry Rooter was not Wallie Torbin; but in possession of material such as this he could easily make himself intolerable. Therefore, it was in a flurried state of mind that Herbert waited; and when his friend appeared, over the fence, his perturbation was not decreased. He even failed to notice the unusual gravity of Henry's manner. "Hello, Henry!

"Mamma," said Florence, "do you b'lieve it's true if a person swallows an apple-seed or a lemon-seed or a watermelon-seed, f'r instance, do you think they'd have a tree grow up inside of 'em? Henry Rooter said it would, yesterday." Mrs. Atwater looked a little anxious. "Did you swallow some sort of seed?" she asked.

He had two weeks' leave in London and went to see the game that King George was at, and says that the King, if they will let him, will make the greatest rooter of the whole bunch. Such was Tom's war talk.

"It's my father and mother's stable," Herbert asserted. "Haven't I got a right to say who's allowed in my own father and mother's stable?" "You have not," the prompt Florence replied. "It's my own uncle and aunt's stable, and I got as much right here as anybody." "You have not!" Henry Rooter protested hotly. "This isn't either your ole aunt and uncle's stable." "It isn't?" "No, it is not!

Tried him with a different question every day for a week. Always answered quick, and always answered wrong. Found that he was a base-ball rooter and had been handing out the batting averages of the Chicagos for his answers. Seems that when I used to see him busy figuring with his pencil he was working out where Anson stood on the list. He's not in Who's Who in the Stock Yards any more, you bet.

Kindness of Florence A." Herbert surrendered. So did Henry Rooter, a little later that evening, after a telephoned conversation with the slave-driver. Therefore, the two miserable printers were back in their places the next afternoon.