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"If there's any way of my ketchin' up to my size, why, I reckon I kin pay." The principal thought it might be arranged. For instance, he would be glad to give Pete he said Mr. Annersley an introduction to an instructor, a young Eastern scholar, who could possibly spare three or four evenings a week for private lessons. Progress would depend entirely upon Pete's efforts.

"No, Tom," said Uncle Richard quietly. "Police means magistrates, magistrates mean conviction and prison. Master Pete's bad enough now." "Yes, uncle; he poaches rabbits." "I dare say," said Uncle Richard; "and if I sent him to prison, I should, I fear, make him worse, and all for the sake of a few pieces of old iron. No, Tom, I think we'll leave some one else to punish him.

You start this gorl-durned racket like a pack o' weak-headed fools, yearnin' to pitch away what's been chucked right into your fool laps jest fer one o' Blue Grass Pete's fat-head notions. Well, wot's doin'? I ask." "You ke'p that ugly map o' yours closed," cried Pete hotly. "You ain't bein' robbed any." "Guess I'll see to that," retorted Beasley, with a grin.

When he looked around again, Vane smiled wryly. "If this had happened farther north, it would have been the end of me," he said. "As it is, it's awkward." The word struck Carroll as singularly inexpressive, but he made an effort to gather his courage when his companion broke off with a groan of pain. "It's lucky we helped that doctor when he set Pete's leg at Bryant's mill," he declared cheerily.

That afternoon, five of the boys of our section, myself included, went to the little ruined village in the rear and from the deserted gardens of the French chateaux gathered grass and flowers. From these we made a wreath. While the boys were making this wreath, I sat under a shot-scarred apple tree and carved out the following verses on a little wooden shield which we nailed on Pete's cross.

Only three other persons knew anything of that Cæsar, who had his own reasons for saying nothing; Peter Christian himself, who was hardly likely to tell; and the High Bailiff, who was a bachelor and a miser, and kept all business revelations as sacred as are the secrets of another kind of confessional. When Pete's evil day came and the world showed no pity, Cæsar became afraid.

The women moistened its lips with barley-water, and hushed its fretful whimper. "Come," said Philip, taking Pete's arm. "Let me lean on you, Philip," said Pete, and the stalwart fellow went tottering down the stairs. They sat on opposite sides of the fireplace, and kept the staircase door open that they might hear all that happened in the room above.

"That's right!" chimed the Freshmen, "Pete's dead right!" "Well, say," persisted Smith, "we're willing to quit as it is. The score stands two to one for you fellows, too." "Two to nothing!" and again the infant class shouted approval while Lyman, the Senior, looked on amused. "I really have a chap for you children," he said. "Just because rushing happens to be your game, you run it to death.

Tom shot back quickly enough into Pete's lurking-place, and turned to face him if the fellow came in. He did not think he was afraid of Pete, but all the same he did not feel disposed to have a tussle before breakfast. Besides, his leg was rather stiff and painful from the blows David had given to him. But he had little time for thinking.

Don't I remember the lil mother, with a sickle and a bag, going cutting the long grass on the steep brews for the cow, and drying a handful for myself for a bed. Sleeping on it? Never slept the like since at all." The result of Pete's first week's fishing was twenty cod and a gigantic ling. He packed the cod in boxes and sent them by Crow and the steam-packet to the market in Liverpool.