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The astonished clerk admitted that it was. "Well, give me a can of the chicken kind." Mr. Smalley, standing on a chair to reach the shelf where the soup was kept, shook his head. "Now, that's too bad, Cap'n," he said, "but we're all out of chicken just now. Fact is, we ain't got nothin' but termatter and beef broth. Yes, and I declare if the termatter ain't all gone."
"That dog's been givin' me a chase, I can tell you! He clawed and scratched so in the shed that I put him in the wood-house; and he went and clim' up on that carpenter's bench, and pitched out that little winder at the top, and fell on to the milk-pan shelf and scattered every last one of 'em, and then upsot all my cans of termatter plants. But I couldn't find him, high nor low.
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