The present divinity of the cellar was a comely middle-aged dame, almost as stout, and quite as shrill-voiced, as the Billingsgate fish-wives above-mentioned, Mrs. ” Annabel leaned back in her chair and laughed till the tears stood in her eyes. It was not until the morning of the fifth day that the constant vigil was broken. Ah! how I wish, poor dear Sir Cecil were alive! he'd keep him in order. And, turning to his daughter, he gave the necessary directions in a low tone.
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