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"I am in trouble, my dears!" she began, sighing. "You see brother has brought a valet with him, and the valet, God bless him, is not one you can put in the kitchen or in the hall; we must give him a room apart. I can't think what I am to do! I tell you what, children, couldn't you move out somewhere to Fyodor's lodge, for instance and give your room to the valet? What do you say?"
"Oh! let us go nearer to the balcony!" said the children, "that we may hear the music better." A violin, and a clarinet, at this moment began to play. "Oh! let us go nearer!" said the children, drawing Fanny with all their little force towards the balcony. "My dears, it is growing late," said she, "and we must make haste home.
The light was put out; the three, father, mother, and daughter, came together in the fading fire-glow. Roberta laid a warm young hand upon the shoulder of each. "You dears," she said, "what fortunate and happy children your four are, to be the children of you!" Her father placed his firm fingers under her chin, lifting her face.
She too wrote a private letter to a London friend, and arrived at Woodbine Cottage primed with what she considered valuable information. "Now, my dears, you must go to Shepherd's Bush that is the place, and the only place where you can live within your means.
"My dears," said John, in reply, laying his hand on that of Sally, who sat beside him on their favourite confabulation-knoll, which overlooked Bounty Bay, "ideas don't take up much room, and if they did, we could send 'em out on the sea, for they won't drown. Ah! Sall, Sall " "What are you thinking of, dear father?" asked Sally, with a sympathetic look, as the old man stopped.
Pash, dryly, and hopping up the cellar stairs. "It wasn't hasty," cried Deborah, following and talking all the time; "six months have them dears billed and cooed lovely, and if my queen wants to buy a husband, why not?
I can see no possible way of escape, dears, so do not buoy yourselves up with hope. I have none. Strange as it may seem to you we are not very unhappy here. There are many of our old friends and some of the deputies of the Gironde, who used to attend our salon. We keep up each other's courage.
He looked at the dollar bill, and then he said quite out loud "Poor, poor dears!" That night, Kenelm could not sleep. He walked up and down his room in the dark. His own head ached, and he could not think properly. The one image which stood clearly out of the confusion was that of the Celestine, raising gracious spars above the house-tops.
"And I know," said Bob, "I know, my dears, that when we recollect how patient and how mild he was; although he was a little, little child; we shall not quarrel easily among ourselves, and forget poor Tiny Tim in doing it." "No, never, father!" they all cried again. "I am very happy," said little Bob, "I am very happy!" Mrs.
Pow's, that know my 'ffection for the Poles, poor dears, I'd an action against 'em. 'Stop ut, I cries out to the man: if he'd been one o' them that wears a wig, I couldn't ha' spoken so 'Stop ut, I cries, not a bit afraid of 'm. I wouldn't let the man go on, for all I want to know is, that I'm not rrooned.
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