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Updated: June 3, 2025
"None o' your business," said Uncle Ethan as he turned and made off, while Doudney screamed with merriment. On his way home Uncle Ethan grew ashamed of his burden. Doudney had canvassed the whole neighborhood, and he practically gave up the struggle. Everybody he met seemed determined to find out what he had been doing, and at last he began lying about it.
"There are days of deepest sorrow In the season of our life; There are wild, despairing moments, There are hours of mental strife; There are times of stony anguish, When the tears refuse to fall; But the waiting time, my brothers, Is the hardest time of all." Sarah Doudney. Beside a Gothic window, and under a groined stone roof, that afternoon sat a monk at his work. The work was illumination.
Doudney turned and faced him. "Buy! No. I've got nineteen bottles I want 'o sell." Ripley glanced up at Doudney's new granary and there read "Dodd's Family Bitters." He was stricken dumb. Doudney saw it all and roared. "Wal, that's a good one! We two tryin' to sell each other bitters. Ho ho ho har, whoop! wal, this is rich! How many bottles did you git?"
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