“I’m six hundred and forty-eight, John, but guess how old I look? Fifteen. Ain't you, Jacky darling?" "Not quite, Poll," returned Mr. Thanks. His efforts at self-destruction were, however, prevented. From the sounds of it, he was better off dead. "Aha!" exclaimed Jack, with a roguish wink, "I've caught you,—have I?" The carpenter's daughter was fair and free— Fair, and fickle, and false, was she! She slighted the journeyman, (meaning me!) And smiled on a gallant of high degree. . A drunken idea, Ah Cum had called it. "All right. "I knew how it would be," she cried, in the shrill voice peculiar to a shrew, "when you brought that worthless hussy's worthless brat into the house.
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