" "Yes, there was one," observed Ireton. Their laughter, together with the agonized yowling of the dog, drew a circle of wondering natives; and at length McClintock himself came over to see what the racket was about. “She found my collection of witchcraft books under my bed and threw them away. And they’ll shut the gates presently. Sheppard in the asylum, and take her this, and send her that;—and I've never prevented you, though such mistaken liberality's enough to provoke a saint.
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