"True," replied Wild. The procession had just got into line of march, when a dreadful groan, mixed with yells, hootings, and execrations, was heard. ‘This journey I do not like,’ she said more loudly. She held it by the neck and broke the end of the bottle on the hard dirt. ’ ‘Fiddle,’ scoffed Miss Froxfield. She wanted to scream, but there was no one to scream for.
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