The mother, Cathy Beck, was as patient and as charitable of an individual that Lucy had ever known, a big kindly Polish-American woman with the heart of an angel. "I am, Charcoal. Ann Veronica stood in the twilight room staring at the door that had slammed upon her aunt, her pocket-handkerchief rolled tightly in her hand. Died short, I suppose, and the girls had to shift for themselves. " "Ay; but I do mind her," cried Jack upon whom his comrade's observation had produced the desired effect.
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