” Ennison dropped the evening paper which he had been pretending to read. "Ah! Quilt Arnold, my man, is it you? By the powers! I'm glad to see you. With his chisel so fine, tra la! "There!" cried the boy, leaping from the stool, and drawing back a few paces on the bench to examine his performance,—"that'll do. But there is need for the proof that I am me, and that is what I look for. Spurling," rejoined Ireton; "we can taste the rum when he returns.
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