"My chickens are hatched, or, at least, nearly so," replied Shotbolt, with increased merriment. It was dusty, with dirty clothing strewn about, a cracked basin thick with grime on the rickety dresser, and a film of grease on the leaded casement. ” 152 < 19 > THE WINDS OF NOVEMBER The Thanksgiving season brought a fierce wind that relentlessly whipped around the brick corners of the school. A shout was heard at a little distance, and, the next moment, a person rushed with breathless haste to the stair-head. She tried to scream, \"I'm coming to you, Mama!\" But no sound would come from her mouth.
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