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Gin I got on the paidmint, I was slippin' here an' there like some lassie on the skeetchin' pond, till doon I skaikit, skloit on the braid o' my back, an' left my life-size engravin' i' the middle o' the road. Eh, it was a gude thing I didna hae on my best frock! I shiftit at tea-time, for thae gutters mak' sic a dreedfu' mairter o' a body.
"Well, I won't scold any more. I'm glad we've got the three thousand anyway and the tea-pot." "It's a lovely tea-pot, all engravin' and everything. And the sugar-bowl's almost as pretty. You'll like 'em, Serena." "Yes, I'll love 'em, I don't doubt. You and I can look at them and think of that cousin of Aunt Lavinia's spending the rest of her fortune.
Not me, as you know me. I thought somehow I was that poet in my picture, the man in the steel engravin' with a look like he see heaven. An' it didn't seem strange to me, but just like it had always been so. I thought I rilly was that poet that I'd looked at in the picture all my life. But then I guess after all that part wasn't so funny as the rest of it.
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