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Emerson to his wife as he passed one day and stopped to watch the children at work, some, just arrived, getting their tools from the toolhouse in one corner of the lot, others already hard at work, some hoeing, some on their knees weeding, all as contented as they were busy. "Come in, come in," urged Mr. Wheeler, who noticed them looking over the fence.
Conrad wished some one else to discover the ruined boat. After all, there was no reason to doubt the tramp's word. His avowed hostility to Andy made it quite certain that he had done his work. "Here's the money," he said. "And here's the hatchet." "I wish it was back in the toolhouse where it belongs," thought Conrad. "However, I'll manage to get it back without any one seeing me."
Had she come to Tarrytown for him? The two men crouched low, and talked no more during some minutes. Finally, Lon, bidding Lem follow him, lifted his big body, and they left the toolhouse. The squatter led the way to the fence. They stood there for a time watching in silence. Two shadows appeared upon a curtain of the house before them.
I remember the field and the pond with the tadpoles, and making haystacks with Mr. Lavington." "She is right. There WAS a pond with tadpoles," Mrs. Cosham corroborated. "Millais made studies of it for 'Ophelia. Some say that is the best picture he ever painted " "And I remember the dog chained up in the yard, and the dead snakes hanging in the toolhouse."
Oh! we must cuddle close and be still; Elder Gray's going to sit down under the great maple; and do you see, all the Brothers seem to be up early this morning, just as we are?" "More love, Elder Gray!" called Issachar, on his way to the toolhouse. "More love, Brother Issachar!" "More love, Brother Ansel!" "More love, Brother Calvin!" "More love!.... More love!.... More love!"
First the old brown rat, with his fierce little eyes and pointed, whiskered nose, came out from under the toolhouse and began exploring the strawberry patch. He didn't think much of strawberries in themselves, but he was apt to find fat grubs and beetles and sleepy June bugs under the clustering leaves. He came upon the string, stretched taut.
"We have a shed here where we can keep them but at Sweetbrier there isn't anything," and Dorothy's mouth dropped anxiously. "We can build you a tool house," Tom was offering when James interrupted him. "If we can get a piano box there's your toolhouse all made," he suggested.
Yet Sister, far from being sorry for her hot, busy morning in the garden, felt very happy. "Now you don't mind, do you?" she asked Jimmie anxiously. "Mind what?" he said, putting the wheelbarrow away in the toolhouse. "About the butterflies," explained Sister. "I'd forgotten all about them," declared Jimmie, hugging her. Brother and Sister were very fond of playing school.
She understood that if her uncle succeeded in his wicked plans, she, too, would join that small number of people, dead and buried, under the pines. Her father's words brought the cemetery, with its broken cross and headstones, its low toolhouse, and the restless night spirits, closer than Matty, with her vivid, ghastly tales, had ever done.
"Jimmie!" said a little voice at his elbow as he got the trowel and the wheelbarrow from the toolhouse. "Jimmie?" "Well, what do you want?" demanded Jimmie shortly. "I'll I'll help you," offered Sister timidly. "You can't," said Jimmie. "Last time you crammed the lettuce plants in so hard they died over night."
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