" CHAPTER XI. Standing on tiptoe, on a joint-stool, placed upon the bench, with his back to the door, and a clasp-knife in his hand, this youngster, instead of executing his appointed task, was occupied in carving his name upon a beam, overhead. Friday was not a big dinner night at the Beck house. —D'ye hear?" Still the widow remained silent. I came here to beg you not to sign that contract. ‘You make a game with me, I think. ” Cathy insisted. My parents refuse to pay for my college.
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