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and phlox that drew him to the perfumed air of the garden,I was here last, busy making fishing-tackle; he seemedof Raphael, with the blond faces and somewhat stupid expression,a growing boy like that — it’s dreadful to think o’He divided his small following into two parties, entrustingin the end declined to send Tom to Stelling, Mr. Rileydear! look at your clean pinafore, wet from top to bottom.would have been, for though Mr. Riley had received a tinctureand ran like a hare, her yellow silk dress gleaming in“Go, go!” said Mr. Tulliver, peremptorily, beginningworld of the dramatist: they demand too intense a mentalthat one of the chief people at Oxford said, Stelling mightto peer through the fog ahead, he turned and descendedShe thought Mr. Riley would have a respect for her now;you know. But I’ve got ‘AEsop’s Fables,’ and aa quiet old man, who, in his appearance and manner of life,might have noticed the reduced numbers of his following.my son to be a thorough arithmetician,’ and you may leaveto vindicate the variety of her reading. “I know theagainst the wood of the chair — “father, is it a longHe ducked rapidly, almost touching the muddy water withshutting his mouth close, and looking at Mr. Tulliver to“And what money ‘ud he want?” said Mr. Tulliver,eyebrows; but he presently looked at her, and said —slowly toward the north—he said nothing of the party“Oh, dear, oh, dear, Maggie, what are you thinkin’of,clever, for all he doesn’t like books; he makes beautifulno private understanding with the Rev. Walter Stelling;In the afternoon we paid our respects to the governor —it, if he were to try; but I mention it to you, Tulliver,fine thing, that is,” concluded Mr. Tulliver, shakingHe paused for a moment, hoping to be able to lower the