"Go to the pump, Nab," he said, when this was done, "and fill a pail with water. His face was aquiline but sweet, the years had not yet taken the blush from his cheeks and his lips were similarly rubefacient. He had certain orders from which on no account was he to deviate. The scent of cloying pine dust filled the air as floodlights shone eerily through the jungle gym of new wood.
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