"I suppose it didn't drop through the ceiling, did it? Are you quite sure it's flesh and blood?" asked he, playfully pinching its arm till it cried out with pain. I have read that authors are very selfish and self-centred. ’ ‘Fiddle,’ scoffed Miss Froxfield. Me—I’m nothing but a country wench, and one who went to the bad. Mr. Accordingly, having armed himself with various weapons, including a stout oaken staff then ordinarily borne by the watch, and put a coil of rope and a gag in his pocket, to be ready in case of need, he set out, about ten o'clock, on the expedition. Wood, I command you not to stir," vociferated the carpenter's better-half; "recollect you'll be answerable to me.
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