Standing on tiptoe, on a joint-stool, placed upon the bench, with his back to the door, and a clasp-knife in his hand, this youngster, instead of executing his appointed task, was occupied in carving his name upon a beam, overhead. " The stranger said nothing, but hastily brushed away a tear. Certainly not a gentlewoman. “Like what, Lucy?” She saw the panic threaten to overtake him.
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