Blueskin and the Minters were dragging Wood to the pump. "'Odd's-my-life! what's this?" exclaimed the carpenter, looking at the superscription of one of them. Then he hovered undecidedly for some seconds with his hands in his pockets and his mouth puckered to a whistle before he turned to go home by the Avenue. She was, by certain signs, charged with anger, but she saw upon the faces of these two young fools the look of angels and an ineffable kindness breathed upon her withered heart. They sat down in a covered pavilion that housed a grimy picnic table and a dingy fire pit.
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