She rehearsed the story of her forlorn long lost mother in her head, what she would say to the theorymongers. What else was there lurked in shadows and deep places; if in some mood of reverie it came out into the light, it was presently overwhelmed and hustled back again into hiding. “Just do it. “Quite unusually cold for the time of year,” he said. Wood dandled his little charge to and fro, after the most approved nursery fashion, essaying at the same time the soothing influence of an infantine melody proper to the occasion; but, failing in his design, he soon lost all patience, and being, as we have before hinted, rather irritable, though extremely well-meaning, he lifted the unhappy bantling in the air, and shook him with so much good will, that he had well-nigh silenced him most effectually. And nearly all these things were fearfully ill-paid. Daughters were not like sons.
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