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I alow of the coals as I

ply the bellows; and, listening to their hoarse, not unmusical

drone, it seems like a familiar voice (or the voice of a fa toin this wise: "Charmian Brown--desires to thank--Mr Smith but because thanks

--are so poor and sreat--needs must she

reo the shaft of the

bellows the better to think this over, it naturally followed that

the bellows grew suddenly du with a will

"--reentleman," wheezed the familiar

"Psha!" I exclaimed

"--yet oftener as a smith--"

"Hum!" said I

"--andmy back upon the bellows, I sat

down upon the anvil and, taking my chin in my hand, stared away

to where the red roof of old Areen of leaves

"As aof