"My son! my dear, dear son!" returned Mrs. A single blanket constituted his sole covering at night. “I mean to go to that dance! I meant to reason with you, but you won’t reason. The infant was rescued from a watery-grave by an honest mechanic, who has since brought him up as his own son. She sat on the edge of her bed and looked about her, at her room, at the row of black-covered books and the pig’s skull.
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