"And in to minutes Beresford hit him, and got a responce.
It was a Million dollars worth."
So he babbled on. But what were his words to me?
Dear Dairy, I gave no thought to the smallpox he had
mentioned, although fatle to the complexion. Or to the fight at
the mill. I heard only Adrian's possable tradgic fate. Sudenly
I colapsed, and asked for a drink of water, feeling horible,
very wobbley and unable to keep my knees from bending.
And the next thing I remember is father taking me home, and
Adrian's fate still a deep mystery, and remaining such, while I
had a warm sponge to bring out the rest of the rash, folowed by
a sleep--it being meazles and not smallpox.
Oh, dear Dairy, what a story I learned when haveing wakened
and feeling better, my father came tonight and talked to me from
the doorway, not being allowed in.
Adrian had gone to the mill, and father, haveing thrown
Beresford out and asserted his principals, had not thrown him
out, _but had given him a job in the mill_. And the Policeman
had given him no chance to escape, which he atempted. He was
dragged to the shell plant and there locked in, because of
spies.
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