" Her son complied, and sat down upon the patch-work coverlet beside her. She had felt deserving of the punishment, as he had been mainly concerned that she would be killed by accidentally falling into the pit, but it was a terrible insult. Her aunt had a once exasperating habit of interrupting her work with demands for small household services, but now Ann Veronica rendered them with a queer readiness of anticipatory propitiation. Rushing towards the entrance of the well-hole, Blueskin touched the secret spring. . She cursed the treachery of memory, its frailty and spottiness. "Come along, Mrs. A loud buzz of curiosity circulated among the domestics; some of whom— especially the females—leaned forward to obtain a peep at the culprit. “I am. Wood.
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