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William Wetherell, who was looking out of the window, drew his breath, and even Jethro drew back with an exclamation at the change wrought in her. But Cynthia snatched the roll from his hand and wound it up with a feminine deftness. "Wh-what's the matter, Cynthy?" "Oh, I can't wear that, Uncle Jethro," she said. "C-can't wear it! Why not?"
"Wh-what's the row?" he asked sleepily. "You," answered Outfield. "You've been yelling '4, 9; 5, 7; 8, 6' for half an hour. What's the matter with you, anyhow?" "The signals," muttered Joel, turning sleepily over, "that's a run around left end by left half-back. And don't forget to start when the ball's snapped. And jump high if you're blocked. And don't forget to " Snore snore!
Startled at his incomprehensible and unusual conduct I did not attempt to pursue the conversation but let him alone as he strode hastily to the telephone. Almost angrily he seized the receiver and asked for a number. It was not like Craig and I could not conceal my concern. "Wh-what's the matter, Craig?" I blurted out eagerly. As he waited for the number, he threw the letter over to me.
"Wh-what's up?" he demanded sleepily. "Oh, hush," cried Billie. Scurrying to his bed and leaning over, she whispered the awful words: "There's a burglar in the house, Chet." "A burglar?" repeated Chet, wide awake by this time. "Who says so?" "Don't be foolish! Didn't I hear him myself?" cried Billie in a desperate whisper. "Oh, Chet, he's on the stairs outside." "Well, why doesn't he come in?
Still the Virginian gasped for breath and seemed unable to lift a hand. If ever a fellow seemed done up, it was Diamond just then. Roll Ditson ground his teeth in despair. "Oh, Merriwell will think he is cock of the walk now!" he muttered. "He'll crow and strut! He's laughing over it now!" "Wh-what's that?" gasped Diamond, trying to sit up.
Cynthia herself could not have explained why she lingered. Suddenly he shot a question at her. "Where be you goin'?" "To Brampton, to get Miss Lucretia to change this book," and she held it up from her lap. It was a very large book. "Wh-what's it about," he demanded. "Napoleon Bonaparte." "Who was be?" "He was a very strong man.
Miss Statistix took a step forward, looking in a very superior manner from Elaine to the packages of food and then at these prize members of the Brotherhood. She snorted contemptuously. "Why wh-what's the matter?" asked Elaine, fidgeting uncomfortably, as if she were herself guilty, in the icy atmosphere that now seemed to envelope all things.
Cynthia herself could not have explained why she lingered. Suddenly he shot a question at her. "Where be you goin'?" "To Brampton, to get Miss Lucretia to change this book," and she held it up from her lap. It was a very large book. "Wh-what's it about," he demanded. "Napoleon Bonaparte." "Who was be?" "He was a very strong man.
William Wetherell, who was looking out of the window, drew his breath, and even Jethro drew back with an exclamation at the change wrought in her. But Cynthia snatched the roll from his hand and wound it up with a feminine deftness. "Wh-what's the matter, Cynthy?" "Oh, I can't wear that, Uncle Jethro," she said. "C-can't wear it! Why not?"
William Wetherell, who was looking out of the window, drew his breath, and even Jethro drew back with an exclamation at the change wrought in her. But Cynthia snatched the roll from his hand and wound it up with a feminine deftness. "Wh-what's the matter, Cynthy?" "Oh, I can't wear that, Uncle Jethro," she said. "C-can't wear it! Why not?"
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