You must know, Sir, when he was a lad, the day after he broke into his master's house in Wych Street, he picked a gentleman's pocket in our church, during sarvice time,—that he did, the heathen. ’ ‘Now that’s where you’re wrong. ” “Don’t imperil my reputation before I am established,” she answered, smiling. "He's not my son," rejoined the carpenter. "Attend to me, Mrs. I can't invent; the thing won't come.
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