"Every brick I take out," cried Jack, as fresh rubbish clattered down the chimney, "brings me nearer my mother. "Have nine years so changed me, that there is no trace left of your adopted son?" "God bless me!" ejaculated the carpenter, rubbing his eyes, "can—can it be?" "Surely," screamed Mrs. "For my part, it's only what I expected of him," observed Mrs.
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