"I can't tell it to you here, Mary Ellen," whispered her sister. "Sure, he might be under the hedge this minute and hear me talking about him. Come to the top of the hill and I'll tell you." Mary Ellen slipped her hand into Kathleen's, and the two children stole softly away from the door-stone where they had been playing. Their bare feet made no sound on the green grass, and the old grandmother, who was spinning at the door of the cottage, did not even look up as they passed.…
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