" "Take a glass of gin, Ma'am," cried Poll Maggot, holding up a bottle of spirit; "it used to be your favourite liquor, I've heard. ‘More important is that you help me instantly, as even your capitaine would command. With his chisel so fine, tra la! "There!" cried the boy, leaping from the stool, and drawing back a few paces on the bench to examine his performance,—"that'll do. He leaned back in a low chair, and watched her graceful movements, the play of her white hands as she bent over some wonderful machine. We'll get those books into your room first.
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