" "Where are you going?" asked his mother. "However, some one must look after the jail; and they're all gone but me. On a stool eight feet high sat a small boy in a faded blue cotton, his face like that of young Buddha. ‘I’ve finished me report, sir,’ Trodger said aggrievedly. He remained listening attentively. "Quilt Arnold, is that you?" "It is, Sir," sputtered the janizary. The next weekend arrived and she made her decision. Pausing at each door on the landing, Jack placed his ear to the keyhole, and listened intently.
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