" The worthy carpenter was now far more angry with himself than he had previously been with Mrs. "No; I don't think I'd laugh. Occasionally the flames would bend, twist and writhe crazily as the punka-boy bestirred himself. "Help!—murder!—thieves!" screamed Mrs. And, when I have seen him pining away before my eyes, getting thinner and thinner every day, I have sometimes thought my prayers were heard.
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