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Updated: June 3, 2025
"Oh no; he draws landscapes and things, and went to the Art School as long as mamma could afford it. Then he practised at home. He means to be a great painter some day, like the ones he read about." "Humph!" said Miss Hepsy contemptuously. "I guess his uncle'll find him work in painting the farm an' the gates afresh this fall. It'll save a man. Now then, there's them taters on.
"Well I never!" ejaculated Mrs. Waring, scarlet with indignation. "Upon my word, John, if it's thought manners in town to be givin' impudence to your own aunt ye'd best go back theer. It's not thought manners here, and what's more, we won't put up with it. Your uncle'll ha' summat to say, I'll warrant."
'Ere's where I buried 'im, and 'ere's where there ain't no signs of 'is dead body. 'E's come back to 'aunt us, that's wot 'e 'as, and your uncle'll be the next." "Don't be so foolish," snapped Dorothy. "You've forgotten the place, that's all, and I don't wish to hear any more of this nonsense." "'Oo was it?" asked Mrs.
Dick glanced at the negro. "Never you mind him," said the old gentleman, with a fierce scowl. "Your uncle'll shoot the blamed head off him if he so much as bats an eye; he knows it too." And he trained the long gun on the trembling black. Dick slipped out of the back door and soon returned holding Frank firmly by the collar.
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