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Polly's soul. "Hen-witted gigglers," said Mr. Polly. He went down to the fence, and stood with his hands on it staring away at nothing. He stayed there for what seemed a long time. From the house came a sound of raised voices that subsided, and then Mrs. Johnson calling for Bessie. "Gowlish gusto," said Mr. Polly. "Jumping it in. Funererial Games. Don't hurt him of course.
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