"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. "To be sure I will, my child. Do you know this, Sir?" he added, taking a key from his pocket. “I don’t know, John, but I think there is something going on with Michelle. Enough's as good as a feast of the dainties you provide.
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