Coldly perusing his surveillance cameras one day, Mr. Burns spies nothing but grotesque misconduct: Instead of working, his employees engage in limbo contests, chess games, and, of course, cockfights.
The pickers are paid by the bushel.
But when, after a singularly heavy tread and the jingle of spurs on the platform, the door flew open to the newcomer, he seemed a realization of our worst expectations.
Clover made a sort of wall round them with her great foreleg […]
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