"My chickens are hatched, or, at least, nearly so," replied Shotbolt, with increased merriment. They proved all sorts of things perhaps, but they were thick, unequal, pitiful pieces of work. "I swear it," rejoined Jonathan, readily. I just want him, and no one else will do. He had already shown the covering envelope and its instructions to Ruth, and she had ignored or misunderstood the warning.
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