“Ever yours, “ANNABEL. Standing on tiptoe, on a joint-stool, placed upon the bench, with his back to the door, and a clasp-knife in his hand, this youngster, instead of executing his appointed task, was occupied in carving his name upon a beam, overhead. Very well, I give up. ” She stopped short. As to his mother, I've no pity for her. A curious silence ensued. He was out of breath, and spoke in broken sentences.
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