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When the leaves were done, many barrowloads of chips were wheeled from the wood to the shed, and another dollar earned. Then Demi helped cover the schoolbooks, working in the evenings under Franz's direction, tugging patiently away at each book, letting no one help, and receiving his wages with such satisfaction that the dingy bills became quite glorified in his sight.
Tell me first how you got in'; and Mrs Jo settled herself to listen with interest, never tired of boys' affairs. Tom gave his head a rousing rub all over to clear his wits, and plunged into his story with a will. 'Well, we've met her before, but I didn't know she was there. Demi wanted to see a fellow, so we went, and finding it nice and cool rested over Sunday.
Did Hamerton see a fine plate? The shadow is heavy; the street is in demi, not total, obscurity; the values of the flying ravens and the shadow are clearly enunciated. The passage is powerful, even sensational, and in the Romantic, Hugoesque key. Hamerton is wrong. Meryon seldom erred. His was a temperament of steel and fire. The sitting-room was long and narrow.
Now we shall catch it, cried Tom, putting up an umbrella to shield his unhappy head; for Nan's earnest voice was audible, and her indignant eye happened to rest on him as she spoke. 'Go on, go on! I'll take notes, and put in "great applause" liberally, added Demi, producing his ball-book and pencil, with his Jenkins air.
"No one dislikes Blanche Ingleside and her demi monde more than I." "You ought not," was the retort. "You help to bring other girls to her level." "Whom?" said Malbone, startled. "Emilia." "Emilia?" repeated the other, coloring crimson. "I, who have warned her against Blanche's society." "And have left her no other resource," said Harry, coloring still more.
It was the most beautiful picture of them all, and Nat lay looking at it, dimly feeling what it meant, and wishing he knew all about it. "That's my picture," said a little voice in the room. Nat popped up his head, and there was Demi in his night-gown pausing on his way back from Aunt Jo's chamber, whither he had gone to get a cot for a cut finger. "What is he doing to the children?" asked Nat.
My 'Story without an end' is one, because the child in it means a soul; don't it, Aunty?" cried Demi, eager to prove himself right. "That's it, dear; and Uncle's story is an allegory, I am quite sure; so listen and see what it means," returned Mrs. Jo, who always took part in whatever was going on, and enjoyed it as much as any boy among them. Demi composed himself, and Mr.
"Demi has lived among older people so much that he needs just what you have knowledge of common things, strength, and courage. He thinks you are the bravest boy he ever saw, and admires your strong way of doing things.
"See, Dan, I found them, and ran back to give them to you; aren't they beautiful ones?" panted Demi, all out of breath. Dan laughed at the toad, and said he had no place to put him, but the butterfly was a beauty, and if Mrs. Jo would give him a big pin, he would stick it right up in the drawer.
This made him very happy, and, though he often forgot his responsibilities for a time, the desire to help was still there, strengthening with his years. He always uttered the words "my father" with an air of gentle pride, and often said, as if he claimed a title full of honor, "Don't call me Demi any more. I am John Brooke now."
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