"Is your master at home?" inquired the jailer. From the beginning. "I have not told you half. "Is this Misther Wudd's, my pretty miss?" demanded the rough voice of the Irish watchman. Another horseman followed quickly at the heels of the first; but just as he passed the spot where Jack stood, his steed missed its footing, and fell. “It seems so unfair,” she said, “to take all you offer me and give so little in return. She realized in a moment what had happened. She resolved to go into the City to Ramage and ask for his advice. Everything was fresh and bright, from the kindly manners of the Frutigen cobbler, who hammered mountain nails into her boots, to the unfamiliar wild flowers that spangled the wayside.
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