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Updated: May 21, 2025
Only Captain Eri knew that John Baxter's yearly trip to Boston was made for the purpose of visiting the girl who was his sole reminder of the things that might have been, but even the Captain did not know that the money that paid her board and, as she grew older, for her gowns and schooling, came from the bigoted, stern old hermit, living alone in the old house at Orham.
Also, he gives it out that, Satan, or no Satan, he'll begin to deal his game at eight o'clock. ""Very well!" rejoins Squar' Alexanders. "Since you refooses to be warned I shall shore instruct the constable to collar you on the steps of Liberty Hall." As he says this, Squar' Alexanders p'ints across to Chet Kishler, who's the constable, where he's restin' hhnse'f in front of Baxter's store.
"You don't say so!" ejaculated the speaker on shore. "Tell the Rover boys!" called out Nellie. "Dan Baxter is taking us down the river on the houseboat." "Save us, and we will pay you well," added Dora, and then Baxter's not over cleanly hand was clapped over her mouth, and she could say no more.
"Yes, if we don't break our necks before that time comes, Dick," and as Sam spoke he went down into a meadow hole up to his knees. Dick helped him out, and as, he did so the sound of two voices broke upon their ears. "You needn't come if you don't want to, Mumps," came out of the darkness, in Dan Baxter's voice. "I only thought you would be glad of the chance." "There they are," whispered Dick.
"None of your business." "Were you over to the Stanhopes' place?" "Perhaps I was and perhaps I wasn't." "Don't get mulish. Remember that you are absolutely in my power." "And what if I was at the Stanhopes' place? Haven't I a perfect right to go there?" "Did you meet anybody there?" "Yes, I did. I met your particular friend, Josiah Crabtree." Baxter's face fell.
Polly broke it, for she saw that both Molly and Alan were on the point of laughing. "It is a beautiful day," she began. "We were going to ride this morning with Job, but " She paused abruptly. Job had done conspicuous duty in Mrs. Baxter's funeral procession, in fact, he had helped to bear the disconsolate widower and his children to her grave.
During the time that I had been occupied in conducting my division of the party from Baxter's Range to Port Lincoln, the overseer had been engaged in guiding the other portion across to Streaky Bay, upon my former track from thence to Mount Arden, in September 1839.
It was strange how the spaceship Sam Collins was on crashed right into his house. Ed Michaels recalled a time in a tornado when Sy Baxter's car was picked up, lifted across town and dropped into his living room. When the men from the spaceport lifted away tons of rubble, they found him and said, "He's dead." No, I'm not, Collins thought. I'm alive.
Was not this because kneeling was the agreed sign of sorrow and personal contrition, which was not to be introduced into the public worship on the great day and the solemn seasons of the Church's joy and thanksgiving? If so, Baxter's appeal to this usage is a gross sophism, a mere pun. Ib. p. 308.
Over the head of the bed were two oak shelves, holding perhaps a dozen books among which were Theodore, or The Peruvians; Robinson Crusoe; an odd volume of Tristram Shandy; Baxter's Saints' Rest, and a fine English edition of the Arabian Nights, with six hundred wood-cuts by Harvey. Shall I ever forget the hour when I first overhauled these books?
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