Wood required little pressing. His conscience, however, was entirely another affair. ” “And what are you doing here?” the lady asked. "Have nine years so changed me, that there is no trace left of your adopted son?" "God bless me!" ejaculated the carpenter, rubbing his eyes, "can—can it be?" "Surely," screamed Mrs. To-night she had a curious feeling that she stood upon the threshold of some change. He could remember when women laid away their gowns in lavender—as this girl's mother had.
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