“I’m going for a long tramp, auntie,” she said. CHAPTER XIII. Behind the illustrious personages just described marched a troop of stalwart fellows, with white badges in their hats, quarterstaves, oaken cudgels, and links in their hands. The latter took from his pocket a small note-book and pencil. But only inside, you understand, that one cannot see it. She wished she could steal his smiles and keep them in a box, they had always been so precious. .
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