It was his redemption, his ticket out of hell—that blue-serge coat. "Good bye!" cried Mrs. And Rollo, who had been waiting for some encouraging sound, presented himself at the doorway. There was the cottage she had inhabited for so many years,—in those fields she had rambled,—at that church she had prayed. Mr. Opposite, his pupil stood with bowed head and clasped hands. Her girl, Clarice, was ten and just as pretty as a silver bell. “Lucy, my brother is home and I borrowed the cash from him.
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