On some insane score she fancied she had to state her case in verse. ’ ‘You ain’t never,’ gasped Pottiswick. . Bulging out more in the middle than at the two extremities, it resembled an enormous cask set on its end, —a sort of Heidelberg tun on a large scale,—and this resemblance was increased by the small circular aperture—it hardly deserved to be called a door—pierced, like the bung-hole of a barrell, through the side of the structure, at some distance from the ground, and approached by a flight of wooden steps. Your Mom says to come downstairs for dessert. How the devil did you break a picture?’ ‘Don’t be obtuse, Hilary. Someday I'll take you down there and have them rig up the coconut dance for you.
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