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Bruce, Mary Grant, 1878-1958

"Mates at Billabong"

do prattle so. Anyhow, he's not in a
tearing hurry, 'cause he said he was going to have an hour at his
income-tax--and you know what that means."
"Solitude is always best for Dad when he's income-taxing," said Norah.
"It has the most horrible effect on his usual serenity. My dear old
Hermit used to help him, of course; but now--well, no wonder he's
starting early! How's Derrimut, Jimmy?"
"Going on splendidly; Dad and I are quite proud of ourselves as vets.,"
said her brother. "We made quite a good job of the old chap; I believe
he'll hardly have a blemish. By George, you should have seen Cecil at
that operation! He had one rope to hold and he was scared to death."
"So was I," said Wally, grinning. "I was always as timid as a rabbit."
"You!" said Jim, laughing. "Well, you held three ropes, anyway, and I
didn't notice that you looked pale."
"My face won't let me," said his chum. "But I FELT pale!"
"Well Cecil looked and felt it," Jim said. "Of course, you don't
exactly blame a town chap for not taking to that sort of thing like a
duck to water. Still, there's a limit--and I'll swear Norah would have
made a fuss. As far as that goes, Dad says he's known our grandmother,
in the early days, have to help at a much worse job for a beast than
fixing up old Derry's leg.


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