The old woman told him she had no such article to dispose of, but recommended him to a neighbouring blacksmith. His diminutive hand flew out from behind his back like a wounded bird. ’ He gave the gaping Pottiswick a shove, passing him on to his junior, who was waiting patiently by the kitchen door. It was impulsive and natural. “What else was I to do?” For some seconds she stood watching him and both were thinking very quickly. A neat tale, giving little away. She loved to be told to do things. He took her hands firmly in his and raised them to his lips.
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