Sheila McCloskey was the real neighborhood watch. Capes and her father stood up, and her father made a belated movement toward the curtain. “What can you do?” she asked. “You are so sweet, Lucy. Against the walls hung an assortment of staves, brown-bills, (weapons then borne by the watch,) muskets, handcuffs, great-coats, and lanterns. Do not mistake me. ‘Do not mix yourself in mine, and perhaps you will not die. Sometimes I think she’s tired of us.
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