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"Then it must have been Battersea!" said Maurice, decidedly. "He is a friend of Dido's, and a pensioner of Isabella's. I'll find out if he stole the stick for the negress or for Dr. Etwald." "I refuse to marry Mr. Sarby," said Isabella, vehemently. "I hate him!" "God forbid, sir!".
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"I'm about ready, too," chimed in Miss Jinny. "I reckon they'll be quite astonished when they meet with their old friend Sinbad the Sailor." "Humph," she said as we went up the front steps, "I'll be glad when you are married and settled, Molly Carter, so the rest of this town can quiet down into peace once more, and I sincerely hope every woman under fifty in Hillsboro who is already married will stay in that state until she reaches that age. But come on in, both of you, and help me get this marriage feast ready, if I must! The day is going by on greased wheels, and I can't let Mr. Johnson's crotchets be neglected, Alfred or no Alfred." "And I won't forget to let you know just when I'm ready to give in mine, so we both can see how they take it," said Elinor from the door. Across the lawn there crept a wizen, gray-haired little man, with a cringing manner. He was white, but darkish in the skin, and there was something negroid about his face. This dwarfish little creature was a tramp, who had become a pensioner of Isabella's. He had attached himself to her like some faithful dog, and rarely failed to present himself at least once a day..
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