Shall I send him to Sir John?” Annabel was white to the lips, but her anger was not yet spent. "Do you call neglecting your work, and singing flash songs nothing? Zounds! you incorrigible rascal, many a master would have taken you before a magistrate, and prayed for your solitary confinement in Bridewell for the least of these offences. Very glad. He talked with his manner gentle and kindly. Entering the workshop, he found the blacksmith occupied in heating the tire of a cart wheel.
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