‘You see, it is that my papa, he is without sympathy,’ said the lady sadly. Perhaps it was loneliness. Amid a litter of nails without heads, screws without worms, and locks without wards, lay a glue-pot and an oilstone, two articles which their owner was wont to term "his right hand and his left. " And thus their domesticity at McClintock's began—with the tubbing of a stray yellow dog. ” “Ye—e—es.
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