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Already, however, a few pretty houses, with green lawns in front, peeped out from the bushes of lilac and clematis. Before the green railings of one of these a gentleman played hoop with a very young, blond-haired child. His age belonged in that uncertain area which may range from twenty-five to forty.
"Guten Morgen!" Mr. Clinch looked hastily up. Leaning on the parapet of what appeared to be a garden on the roof of the house was a young girl, red-cheeked, bright-eyed, blond-haired. The voice was soft, subdued, and mellow; it was part of the new impression he was receiving, that it seemed to be in some sort connected with the ivy-clad wall before him. His hat was in his hand as he answered,
The professor was screaming now. He turned around and inserted a study spool in a soundscriber. Turning it on he waited, glaring at Roger. The blond-haired cadet's voice came over the machine's loud-speaker clearly and precisely. " ... the idea of motion of one satellite around a mother planet, or planet around a sun star, can best be explained by the use of a rock tied to the end of a rope.
She was a ferret-eyed, blond-haired, spindle-legged little creature whose mind was a cross between that of a parrot and a sheep. She was suspected of copying answers from other girls' slates, although she had never been caught in the act.
All spaceship chronometers were checked against this huge clock regularly, in order to maintain constant uniform time so necessary for the delicate art of astrogation between celestial bodies. Astro started to speak to the blond-haired cadet, but Roger waved him off, listening for the signal.
"Now, if you'll excuse me, I will attend to the business I came here for to take care of a weakling and an informer!" He turned and shouted to his men. "You have your orders! Get Sinclair and then burn everything in sight." "Astro, Tom," gasped Roger. "I I can't go on." The blond-haired cadet fell headlong to the ground, almost burying himself in the mud.
"You know he's the roughest officer in the Academy," replied the blond-haired cadet. "He eats cadets for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. And then has an extra one for dessert. He isn't just tough his hide's made of armor plate. But I've got a hunch that if we play dumb at first, then smarten up slowly, we can make him feel that he's done it for us. So he'll be easier on us."
They were huge strapping blond-haired giants, each striding along with a hundred pounds on his back, and all harnessed to a go-cart which carried fully six hundred more. Their faces were as laughing suns, and the joy of life was in them. The toil seemed child's play and slipped from them lightly.
All pleaded ignorance until the master reached the blond-haired Van Dyck. The boy made a clean breast of it all, save that he refused to reveal the names of his accomplices. "Then you painted the picture alone?" "Yes," came the firm answer that betokened the offender was resolved on standing the consequences.
The animus of our chance friend, at any rate, went to suggest that here was his antithesis. Evidently what he is not, will be the class to contain what is needed here. Evidently. Section 4 I was recalled from my meditations by the hand of the blond-haired man upon my arm. I looked up to discover the botanist had gone into the inn. The blond-haired man was for a moment almost stripped of pose.
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