Occasionally the flames would bend, twist and writhe crazily as the punka-boy bestirred himself. His clothes had evidently seen some service, and were plentifully begrimed with the dust of the workshop. With the broken links of the chain, which served him in lieu of more efficient implements, he commenced operations just above the chimney-piece, and soon contrived to pick a hole in the plaster. She rested her head upon his shoulder. ‘Lawks-a-mussy! It’s Miss Mary.
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