"Oh, dear!" she said, on the verge of tears, as the long boat-cart swung out of sight around the corner, and was lost to view, "it's dreadful to think I've always got to be a girl, and I may have to live a hundred years." "Well, my dear, console yourself, then," replied Sara, "for you won't be a girl even ten years longer." "I won't?" "No." "Now, Sara Olmstead, how do you know that?
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