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Updated: June 8, 2025
"I don't know anything about that sort of thing. Butter-tubs are beneath me." "Of course, of course, Miss Hallijohn," deprecated poor Jiffin. "They are very profitable, though, to those who understand the trade." "What is all that shouting?" cried Afy, alluding to a tremendous noise in the distance, which had continued for some little time. "It's the voters cheering Mr. Carlyle.
Latimer's, not knowing but you had returned home. I saw you this morning at Miss Corny's windows." "Now, I don't want any of your sauce, Ebenezer James. Afy-ing me! The other day, when you were on with your nonsense, I said you should keep your distance. You took and told Mr. Jiffin that I was an old sweetheart of yours. I heard of it." "So you were," laughed Mr. Ebenezer.
Jiffin admired her uncommonly, and she, always ready for anything in that way, had already enjoyed several passing flirtations with him. "Good day, Miss Hallijohn," cried he, warmly, tucking up his white apron and pushing it round to the back of his waist, in the best manner he could, as he held out his hand to her. For Afy had once hinted in terms of disparagement at that very apron.
Ball, who, being a bachelor, was ever regarded with much graciousness by Afy, for she kept her eyes open to contingencies; although Mr. Joe Jiffin was held in reserve. "They are both committed for wilful murder off to Lynneborough within an hour!" Afy's color rose. "What a shame! To commit two innocent men upon such a charge."
What was the matter? What could he do for her? "Faint heat of the sun walked too fast allowed to sit down for five minutes!" gasped Afy, in disjointed sentences. Mr. Jiffin tenderly conducted her through the shop to his parlor. Afy cast half an eye round, saw how comfortable were its arrangements, and her symptoms of faintness increased. Gasps and hysterical sobs came forth together. Mr.
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