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Stratton-Porter, Gene, 1863-1924

"Freckles"


They walked at a rapid pace.
"I am sorry about scaring the birds," said the Angel, "but it's almost
time for them to go anyway. I feel dreadfully over having the swamp
ruined, but isn't it a delight to hear the good, honest ring of those
axes, instead of straining your ears for stealthy sounds? Isn't it
fine to go openly and freely, with nothing worse than a snake or a
poison-vine to fear?"
"Ah!" said Freckles, with a long breath, "it's better than you can
dream, Angel. Nobody will ever be guessing some of the things I've been
through trying to keep me promise to the Boss, and to hold out until
this day. That it's come with only one fresh stump, and the log from
that saved, and this new tree to report, isn't it grand? Maybe Mr.
McLean will be forgetting that stump when he sees this tree, Angel!"
"He can't forget it," said the Angel; and in answer to Freckles'
startled eyes she added, "because he never had any reason to remember
it. He couldn't have done a whit better himself. My father says so.
You're all right, Freckles!"
She reached him her hand, and as two children, they broke into a run
when they came closer the gang.


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