"Lor' ha' mussy, Sir!—how you do talk," said the woman; "this is no robber, I'm sure. And a ballot-box—” Her face assumed an expression of intellectual conflict. I just suppose it isn’t worth the trouble. "Stow it, Nab!" exclaimed Quilt, angrily; "the kinchen's awake. My mother, I'm sure, didn't intend to hurt your feelings. You’d think with as much dick as she gets that she’d cheer up.
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