S. "Get ready your heaviest irons, Austin. Just as they reached the eastern outlet of the churchyard— where the tall elms cast a pleasant shade over the rustic graves—a momentary stoppage took place. We'll get this chap on his feet if only to learn what the trouble is. From time to time the man below would shout, and the boy would let the threads go with the snap of a harpist, only to recover them instantly. " "You do not remember me, I dare say," observed the stranger. "Take care of your charge. “Ciao.
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