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❝Once more he stepped into the street and to his lips again laid his long pipe of smooth straight cane. Before he blew three notes , there was a rustling that seemed like a bustling of merry crowds justling at pitching and hustling. Small feet were pattering, wooden shoes clattering, little hands clapping and little tongues chattering, and, like fowls on a farm when barley is scattering, out came the children running.❞
