A ragged gray moustache drooped from the corners of his mouth and a ragged wisp of whisker hung from his chin. The Old Mint. “Well, anyhow, consider it open. "I am—I am!" cried the widow, snatching the babe, and pressing it to her breast with rapturous delight "God be thanked, I have found it!" "We have both good reason to be grateful," added the lady, with great emotion.
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