Here the old woman at the fire, who has been getting up and down from her three-legged stool during the past few minutes, and sniffing at the pot in an anxious manner, gives way to a loud sigh of relief. Lifting the pot from its crook, she lays it on the earthen floor.,
"Oh, how pretty!" cries one of them from the shadow as though grieved the dance has come so quickly to an end "How lovely!",
"Miss Scully, is it you?" he says, at length; "and here at this hour?".
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