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In Which a Little Song-Maker of Jolly Harbour Enlists the Affection of the Reader
"My gran'son, Bill," said Jonathan.
Archie pitied the lad-a white, soft-eyed little chap, all taut and woeful with anxiety.
"He's young for the ice," Bill observed.
"A young dog," Jonathan replied, "masters his tricks with ease."
Again Archie pitied the