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Blockmaker Holman, blockmaker Holman! The name rang in her ears as, heavy-hearted, she entered the tinsmith's. There he lay among the ragged, dirty clothes, pale, thin and neglected, with frightened eyes. He began to cry when she took him up; he did not know her, and she scarcely knew him.
To every one comes a time when he is surrounded by a lustre, and that blockmaker Holman had existed was something which was really properly understood perhaps by his wife too only after he had disappeared from the scene.
And thus it was that Nikolai came to blockmaker Holman's. It is in some ways a blessing that those who have suffered hardship and been neglected in their babyhood, do not remember anything about it and yet perhaps something clings to them. So, at any rate, Mrs. Holman declared. From the very first day the boy came into the house, she could see he had been brought up in a thieves' nest.
For no one would put up there now that the police had begun to keep an eye on the company, not even certain people who were not generally so particular about their quarters. "But if you take my advice, Barbara, you'll take the boy to blockmaker Holman's down at the wharf. They are such nice, respectable people, and have pitied the boy so when I told them how they were treating him out here."
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