CHAPTER XIV. "Here, wife—hostess—fetch me that bottle from the second shelf in the corner cupboard. ’ ‘Poor sort of a mother,’ Martha said with bitterness. By-the-bye, do you recognize that?” Anna looked and gasped. “But of course it’s aunt’s doing really. " "All right, teacher; I'll shave and comb my hair. ” “Two words only,” Hill repeated. ” Mr.
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