"Come! I see the storm has blown over," cried Winifred, brightening up. He wiped the sweat from his chin and forehead. " "Tell him so, and have done with him, Sir Rowland," observed Jonathan coldly. Standing on tiptoe, on a joint-stool, placed upon the bench, with his back to the door, and a clasp-knife in his hand, this youngster, instead of executing his appointed task, was occupied in carving his name upon a beam, overhead. "Mother—dear mother! Once again, I beseech you to listen to me.
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