Then she spoke, with a carelessness he instantly suspected. Dese ere not schouts, as you faind, but jonkers on a vrolyk; and if dey'd chanshed to keel de vrow Sheppard's pet lamb, dey'd have done her a servish, by shaving it from dat unpleasant complaint, de hempen fever, with which its laatter days are threatened, and of which its poor vader died. “Do you believe me now?” She asked. Say I’m out, away, anything!” “I am sorry, sir,” the man answered, “but she had sent away her hansom before I answered the bell.
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