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M'Cormick, carried him to the nursery, got him on her knee in a speechful condition, and was tenderly sopping the blue lump on his forehead with arnica water. "I dicher tumber," said the little Saxon, stoutly, replacing all the consonant combinations that he couldn't skip, with the aspirated 'ch; "I dicher tumber. I f'ied." "You what?" "F'ied. I icher pa'yow. On'y die tare too big!"
The trouble is, you haven't quite turned into a little bird, yet. You haven't any little beak to pick up clean with, nor any wings to fly with. You'll have to wait till you grow." "I ta'h wa'he. I icher pa'yow now!" "What shall I do with this child, Frank?" asked Sin, with her grave, funny lifting of her brows, as her husband came into the room. "He's got hypochondriasis.
Half my p'ope'ty is in shipping and a lot of the 'eat in munitions. I'm 'icher than eva. Isn't the' a sort of g'andeur?" she pressed. He put the elevation down. He took the plan from her hands and seemed to study it. But he was really staring blankly at the whole situation. "Lady Sunderbund," he said at last, with an effort, "I am afraid all this won't do." "Won't do!" "No.
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