From a scout stationed at the northern entrance, whom she addressed in the jargon of the place, with which long usage had formerly rendered her familiar, she ascertained that Blueskin, accompanied by a youth, whom she knew by the description must be her son, had arrived there about three hours before, and had proceeded to the Cross Shovels. " "Power o' mercy!" cried Blueskin starting. Soon they came to treat Lucy almost as mother, pulling hard at her brown curls and laughing delightedly as they sprang back into their spiral shape. He brought home a few waverers to talk to them where they had no chance of getting away. ” “But I’m quite equal to taking care of myself, aunt. ” She roused herself from some dream at the word. It's a thousand pities to hang so pretty a fellow.
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