Sheila pounded the kitchen table, causing the bell jar with the silk flowers to tip over and roll to the floor. "Curiosity, I suppose," returned Jack, carelessly. But she did not talk readily, and in order to say something she plunged a little, and felt she plunged. "Every brick I take out," cried Jack, as fresh rubbish clattered down the chimney, "brings me nearer my mother. "But—sapperment!—I wish they hadn't broken my pipe.
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