Them young prigs is all alike. Nor my grandfathers both. Only in the sunshine; they would not answer my whistle on cloudy days. The Disguise 261 VI. I must have been very wound up. \"Josh Durkin?\" Lucy whispered loudly. 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. Courtlaw for his true verdict, and he gave it me.
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