" "My dear," said the hospitable carpenter, "I dare say Mr. " "Iss, missis," grinned the black. He could not promise that she would ever appear again in that house. In Wych Street Owen Wood did dwell; A carpenter he was by trade, And money, I believe, he made. " "When will you want me?"—with pitiful eagerness. " "Wait a bit, massa," replied the grinning negro,—"lilly bit—see all right fust. Somehow logic could not explain her.
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