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"And where, pray, is Lucy?" said Miss Acton, in a voice querulous with alarm and other feelings, for Miss Acton was one of those old ladies who are always praising Providence for its blessings, but who are very willing to find calamity in trifles. "She is a long time gone. Who says that she breakfasted with the Jellybottles? And at what time did she leave the house? And if Mamie went with her why is she here?" she added, turning her eyes upon the little terrier. "How," he exclaimed, "I am always being disappointed! If you turn off at the bridge I shall not be allowed more than ten minutes' talk with you." Billy turned toward Anson's bed, from which, for the second time, he was sure had come a faint titter. "I was thinkin'," he said in answer to his mother's quick look, "that it wouldn't hurt Anse none to have a dose. He does grit his teeth somethin' awful when he's asleep.".
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"I have not met with the usage," old Greyquill went on calmly, steadily exasperating Miss Acton by a preface that was disgusting and needless whilst she thirsted for the one essential fact, "that I certainly think I deserve from either Admiral Sir William Lawrence, nor his son, Mr Lawrence." He spoke with so complete a neglect of the Admiral's presence that the old gentleman might have been out of the room. "They have no claim upon my kindness." "Here is her dog anyhow!" exclaimed the Admiral, as the little animal marched into the room and stood near Lucy's chair with fore-foot lifted as though she awaited her mistress. Mrs. Wilson started so at his words that she rammed the cake of soap into Anson's mouth. "That won't hurt him; he's always tired anyway," rejoined Billy. "But we'd best go.".
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