’ I don’t know what you’d call it —a sort of witchery, almost suggestiveness. Dese ere not schouts, as you faind, but jonkers on a vrolyk; and if dey'd chanshed to keel de vrow Sheppard's pet lamb, dey'd have done her a servish, by shaving it from dat unpleasant complaint, de hempen fever, with which its laatter days are threatened, and of which its poor vader died. But I was sorry for poor Jack—as I am still, and hoped he would mend. She glanced towards her sister, and curiously enough found in her face some faint reflection of her own rather sombre mirth.
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This video was uploaded to jandlonmark.org on 30-06-2024 05:15:24
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