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I don't care if Lena-Wingo is among them. I ca'c'late to spend some time there till the Indians get a little scarcer." "What will you do for food?" "I've got that fixed," replied Worrell, in a voice and with a manner that implied there was nothing to fear on that score. "Well, if you will allow us to go with you " "Allow you!" exclaimed the man, in a gushing mood.
"By never saying nothing about it. Come, we're losing too much time; you'll get no sleep at all if you never stop talking. Lay down at once, for I ca'c'late you ain't partic'lar about having a straw bed, nor very soft pillers." Again expressing their gratitude to the man for his repeated kindness, Ned and Jo stretched themselves upon the flinty floor, and quickly glided into the land of dreams.
It was the landlord talking to a lingering summer boarder, a quiet, gray-haired woman who sat reading at the end of the piazza. "Well, Miss Norton, so you're goin' to leave us next week. Sorry to hear it. Don't seem nat'ral 'thout you clear through October. Ca'c'late you're comin' back to Granville in the spring?" Granville! Granville! Where had she heard of Granville? Ah! She knew instantly.
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