"I'm afraid, Jack, you'll come to the gallows," observed the smith; "buth if you do, I'll go to Tyburn to see you. They happen to a man. Poor Ben was not so fortunate. Maggot, dealing him a buffet that sent him reeling several yards backwards. But some day she would find a place to love: there would be rosy apples on the boughs, and there would be flurries of snow blowing into her face. Her mind wandered back to that fateful day. They were bickering, she could tell by the way the mother threw her fat arms into the air and paced restlessly about the tiny clapboard house.
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