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Jolly retraced his steps patiently. "I've dropped it," he announced in time. Morry was breathing hard, too. Looking up words with other people's fore-fingers is pretty tough. "Now, the second story, 'rec' is the first," he explained. "You must find 'rec-om' now, you know." No, Jolly did not know, but he went back to the work undaunted.
The last day I was there," she wept. "But I didn't know he was going away; he never said a word about it. Oh, what shall I do! Go after him, and bring him back, Morry. He must come back. He can't leave me like this, he can't oh, no, indeed!" "You don't mean to say you went to see him, Ephie? alone? at his room?" queried Maurice slowly, and he did not know how sternly. "When? How often?
"We've got a right, you and I, to whatever Morry left behind, and whatever happens I mean to have my share. Look around you!" It was not an inspiring spectacle. The room was dirty, and almost devoid of furniture. "All that I've had out of it so far," he declared, "is free quarters here. The rent's paid up to the end of the year. I've had to sell the furniture bit by bit to keep alive.
Oh, I thought you would never come. Where have you been? Oh, Morry, help me help me, or I shall die!" "Whatever is the matter? What are you doing here?" At his perturbed amazement, she burst into tears, still clinging fast to his hands. He led her back to the sofa, from which she had sprung. "Hush, hush! Don't cry like that. What's the matter, child?
"Augustus said destroy the packet, and I suppose I ought to do it." "By God, you shan't!" Sydney Barnes broke in fiercely. "Morry didn't know that I should be here to look after things." She waited until he had finished, but she seemed to take very little, if any, notice of his intervention. "It isn't," she continued, "that I'm afraid to go back to the bar.
"Heart alive!" breathed Ellen, in fear of his sanity. She felt his temples and his wrists and his limp little body. Was he going to be sick now, just as his father and She were coming home? now, of all times! Which would be better to give him, quinine, or aconite and belladonna? "Never mind," sighed Morry, hopelessly. Ellens he might have known were not made to tell you close things like that.
If she had heard, it would only have meant quinine or aconite and belladonna to drive away feverishness. For Ellens are very watchful. "They'll be here most as soon as I can get you up 'n' dressed. I'm going to wheel you to the front winder " "No!" Morry cried, sharply; "I mean, thank you, no. I'd rather be by the back window where where I can watch for Jolly."
Though, for that matter, in a house beautiful like this patches were, goodness knew, out of place enough! "Hully Gee, ain't it nice an' light in here!" presently exclaimed a boy's voice from the doorway. "Oh, I'm so glad you've come, Jolly! Come right in and take a chair, take two chairs!" laughed Morry, in his excess of welcome. It was always great when Jolly came!
"That's all, thank you, I mean," came wearily, hopelessly, from the pillows. But Morry called the other back before he got over the threshold. There was another thing upon which he craved enlightenment. It might possibly help out. "Are they pretty, Jolly?" he asked, wistfully. "Are who what?" repeated the boy on the threshold, puzzled. Guilt and apprehension dull one's wits. "Step-ones, mothers."
And in a reg'lar mother-voice it began to speak. Morry lay as if in a wondrous dream and listened. "Are you the dear little boy whose legs won't go?" He gasped a little, for he hadn't thought of there being a "dear." He had to swallow twice before he could answer. Then: "Oh yes'm, thank you," he managed to say. "They're under the bedclothes." "Then I've come to the right place.
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