The first peg was torture. They have rescued the child. While he was stirring his tea, she ran and fetched the comb. “What a fool I am!” he muttered, standing up on the hearthrug, and leaning his elbows upon the broad mantelpiece. It was not as bad a wound as she had at first thought, and the blood was only oozing now. There was so much to see, so much to do, that he became what he had once been normally, a lovable boy.
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