One Friday afternoon, in this pleasant month, it chanced that Mr. “Oh. Her fingers clutched the side of the door as though to steady herself. "Go to the pump, Nab," he said, when this was done, "and fill a pail with water. The world had grown dark and wide, and she was very small. A girl of fifteen or sixteen gave her a handbill that she regarded as a tract until she saw “Votes for Women” at the top. She could even think of what had happened.
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