" CHAPTER XIII. Soon they came to treat Lucy almost as mother, pulling hard at her brown curls and laughing delightedly as they sprang back into their spiral shape. "Is it by lettin' you go, my darlin', that I'm to airn it?" inquired Terence. Remain at the door, Nab," he added, loitering for a moment behind the others, "and let no one in, or out. There are no funerals among the poor, only burials. Let’s have an advance round of applause for our concertmaster, 249 Lucy Albert!” Lucy was horrified. "Read the first chapter of Job"; beyond that, nothing.
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