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Show He Bit. The city man was jogging on toward to-ward the summer boarding-house in a rickety old wagon. The driver was glum and far from entertaining, and the city man felt rather lonely. "Pine field over there," he ventured, after a long silence. "Eine," grunted the driver. "Who owns it?" "Old man Bitt." "Old man Bitt, eh? Who are those children stacking up hay?" "Old man Bitt's boys." "And what is his idea in having them out there in the field such a hot day?" "Wal, I reckon he thinks every little lit-tle Bitt helps, stranger. Anything else you want to know? Get up here, hosses." |