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Stratton-Porter, Gene, 1863-1924

"Freckles"

"
The woman looked at her in greater astonishment than the occasion
demanded.
"Well, I'd be glad to let you see them," she said at last, "but the
fact is we haven't them. I do hope we haven't made some mistake. I was
thoroughly convinced, and so was the superintendent. We let his people
take those things away yesterday. Who are you, and what do you want with
them?"
The Angel stood dazed and speechless, staring at the matron.
"There couldn't have been a mistake," continued the matron, seeing the
Angel's distress. "Freckles was here when I took charge, ten years ago.
These people had it all proved that he belonged to them. They had
him traced to where he ran away in Illinois last fall, and there they
completely lost track of him. I'm sorry you seem so disappointed, but it
is all right. The man is his uncle, and as like the boy as he possibly
could be. He is almost killed to go back without him. If you know where
Freckles is, they'd give big money to find out."
The Angel laid a hand along each cheek to steady her chattering teeth.


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