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Updated: May 16, 2025
Is not she a nice one? But, mamma, her hand is, oh, so very cold!" While mamma still hesitated what to think and what to do, the street-gate was thrown open, and the father of Violet and Peony appeared, wrapped in a pilot-cloth sack, with a fur cap drawn down over his ears, and the thickest of gloves upon his hands. Mr.
Lindsey took his departure, shutting the parlour-door carefully behind him. Turning up the collar of his sack over his ears, he emerged from the house, and had barely reached the street-gate when he was recalled by the screams of Violet and Peony, and the rapping of a thimbled finger against the parlour window.
Lindsey took his departure, shutting the parlor-door carefully behind him. Turning up the collar of his sack over his ears, he emerged from the house, and had barely reached the street-gate, when he was recalled by the screams of Violet and Peony, and the rapping of a thimbled finger against the parlor window.
The young person was taking her leave. He could hear her sympathetic "Well good night! I hope she'll be no worse. Good night Mrs. Sisson!" She was gone he heard the windy bang of the street-gate. Presently Millicent emerged again, flitting indoors. So he rose to his feet, balancing, swaying a little before he started into motion, as so many colliers do.
Is not she a nice one? But, mamma, her hand, is oh, so very cold!" While mamma still hesitated what to think and what to do, the street-gate was thrown open, and the father of Violet and Peony appeared, wrapped in a pilot-cloth sack, with a fur cap drawn down over his ears, and the thickest of gloves upon his hands. Mr.
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