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Smith, Mabell S. C. (Mabell Shippie Clarke), 1864-1942

"Ethel Morton at Rose House"

"Her room is
right over this. The bricks fell through the chimney, banging it all
the way, says she, and thin there was a roar like powder had gone off,
as far as I can understand what she says."
"If Mrs. Paterno heard that she must have thought the Black Hand was
getting in its fine work, sure enough," smiled Mr. Emerson.
"Praise be, her room is on the other side of the house. We were all
wailing like banshees up there, but she no more than the rest. 'Tis
better she is," and Moya nodded reassuringly to the grown-ups, who
were, she knew, deeply interested in the Italian woman's recovery of
her nervous strength.
"This explosion business I don't understand," Mr. Emerson said slowly
to himself. "What did you find in the fireplace this morning, Moya? I
wish you had left all the stuff here for me to see."
"I'm sorry, sir. I was only thinkin' about havin' it clean before
breakfast. There was the bricks, sir, two of 'em; and a pile of soot
and some bits of trash wid no meanin'--"
"Did you find my two thinieth I picked up on the track yesterday?"
asked Dicky. "Ethels made me throw away all the thingth in my pocket
and my thinieth went too.


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