"Your master wants a few table-spoons, child," said Mrs. “Kindly explain it to me. We had no idea. You think everything is harmless and simple, and so forth. She was dressed in a tattered black stuff gown, discoloured by various stains, and intended, it would seem, from the remnants of rusty crape with which it was here and there tricked out, to represent the garb of widowhood, and held in her arms a sleeping infant, swathed in the folds of a linsey-woolsey shawl. "Rather in the way. “Well, rather,” said Ann Veronica.
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