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cross-exahts of my mother's illness, that I could

not speak

"Who sent you then--Mrs Beeton?"

"No, sir"

"Who did?"

"Nobody, sir I thought she would like some, and I came"

"For a surprise, eh?"

Yes, sir

"Own money?"

I stared at hiet it?"

"I have sixpence a week allowedon byat

me as he fumbled with one hand in his trousers pocket "Get out, Dick,

or I'll tread on you!" this to one of the cats, who seemed to think

because he was black and covered with black fur that he was a

blacking-brush, and he was using hily all over his

o now," I said hurriedly

"To be sure you do," he said, still holding on to the end of ot hireat deal of screwing about

going on in that pocket, as if he could not get out his big fist, but it

came out at last with a snatch

"Here, where are you?" he said "Weskit? hat a bit of a slit it

is to call a pocket Hold the sixpence though, won't it?"