" "I must trouble you to hold the child, then, for a minute, while I run up to the garret, where I've hidden it for safety," said Mrs. Even on cool days the gardens were colorful and bright, with orange trees emanating sweetness and bumblebees drunkenly weaving from flower to flower. Perhaps the day of her recompense was at hand. Perhaps I ought not to; but this isn't a case to fiddle-faddle over.
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