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"Why, Barnabas!" she exclaimed, "oh, Barnabas!" and with the words

stooped, quick and sudden, yet in the htly on the brow

"Oh, dearto pat and slad I ah

indeed you look dreadfully ferocious, Barnabas!"

"I'ry, Duchess!"

"Of course you are, Barnabas, and God bless you for it!"

"A steak, madam, or a chop, I think--"

"Would be excellent, Barnabas!"

"And I wish to get up, Duchess"

"To be sure you do, Barnabas--there, lie down, so!"

"But, et up,

at once--"

"Quite so, dear Barnabas--lay your head back on the pillow! Dear ry you say? Then I'll

sit here and gossip to you while you take your chicken broth! Youit in, Mr Peterby"

"Chicken broth!" snarled Barnabas, frowning blacker than ever,

"but, madam, I tell you I won't have the stuff; I repeat, madam,

that I am quite determined to--"

"There, there--rest your poor tired head--so! And it's all a

delicious jelly when it's cold--I mean the chicken broth, of course,