" Ah Cum shrugged. ’ ‘Sir!’ came from Trodger, and the booted feet clattered off and out of the front door. "Do you call neglecting your work, and singing flash songs nothing? Zounds! you incorrigible rascal, many a master would have taken you before a magistrate, and prayed for your solitary confinement in Bridewell for the least of these offences. That’s the difficulty.
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