"Mother!" she echoed,—"mother! why do you call me by that name?" "Because you are my mother. Not much. "It's an ill wind that blows nobody good," thought the carpenter, turning his attention to the child, whose feeble struggles and cries proclaimed that, as yet, life had not been extinguished by the hardships it had undergone. The two young fools laughed until they cried. The Leads.
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