Gentlemen,—Mr. ” She looked at him wistfully, but with some unwilling doubt in her wrinkled forehead. After what seemed like an eternity he turned right onto a dirt road that ended unceremoniously at a copse of leafless trees. He heard me; but he never came in to ask what was the matter. "My chickens are hatched, or, at least, nearly so," replied Shotbolt, with increased merriment.
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