A young man was playing the banjo. . ’ ‘Fiddle,’ scoffed Miss Froxfield. He was yellow and coarse of hair; flea-bitten, too; and even as he smiled at Ruth and wagged his stumpy tail, he was forced to turn savagely upon one of these disturbers who had no sense of the fitness of things. My only love is for my poor lost son. Wood had prevented him from paying much attention to the previous scene. This spike is more than half cut through. " CHAPTER IV. “We were afraid that you had deserted us for good, Mr.
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