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Here you shall come upon the cat-bird at her morning bath, and hear her sing, in a clump of pussy-willows, that low, tender, confidential song which she keeps for the hours of domestic intimacy. The spotted sandpiper will run along the stones before you, crying, "wet-feet, wet-feet!" and bowing and teetering in the friendliest manner, as if to show you the way to the best pools.
"Isn't your home nearer?" she asked. "My home is where night finds me," he replied. Barbara meditated. It was going to be dreadful. She knew she would catch her death of cold. But what could she do about it? "You may fix the wet-feet part," she assented at last. "All right," agreed the young man with alacrity. He unslung the pack from his back, and removed from the straps a little axe.
Some of them would certainly have got a long leave to see their friends." "Why is not the senhora here, Major? I don't see her at table." "A cold, a sore throat, a wet-feet affair of last night, I believe. Pass that cold pie down here. Sherry, if you please. You didn't see Power to-day?" "No: we parted late last night; I have not been to bed."
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