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Wiggin, Kate Douglas Smith, 1856-1923

"Story of Waitstill Baxter"

" And Ivory's hand trembled as he filled his pipe.
He had no confidant but this quaint, tender-hearted,
old-fashioned little lad, to whom he had grown to speak his mind
as if he were a man of his own age; and Rod, in the same way, had
gradually learned to understand and sympathize.
"It's dreadful lonesome on Town-House Hill," said the boy in a
hushed tone
"Dreadful lonesome," echoed Ivory with a sigh; "and I don't dare
leave mother until her fever dies down a bit and she sleeps. Now
do you remember the night that she was taken ill, and we shared
the watch?"
Rodman held his breath. " Do you mean you 're going to let me
help just as if I was big? " he asked, speaking through a great
lump in his throat.
"There are only two of us, Rod. You're rather young for this
piece of work, but you're trusty--you 're trusty!"
"Am I to keep watch on the Deacon?"
"That's it, and this is my plan: Nick will have had his feed; you
're to drive to the bridge when it gets a little darker and hitch
in Uncle Bart's horse-shed, covering Nick well. You're to go into
the brick store, and while you're getting some groceries wrapped
up, listen to anything the men say, to see if they know what's
happened. When you've hung about as long as you dare, leave your
bundle and say you'll call in again for it.


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