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There was a concerted gasp of shock from both the black-garbed lad and the coachman. "Lend a hand with the ruffles, Blueskin!" he shouted, as that personage, who had just recovered from the stunning effects of the blow, contrived to pick himself up. On this side stood the instruments with which the latter piece of pleasantry had been effected,—namely, a bucket filled with paint and a brush: on that was erected a trophy, consisting of a watchman's rattle, a laced hat, with the crown knocked out, and its place supplied by a lantern, a campaign wig saturated with punch, a torn steen-kirk and ruffles, some halfdozen staves, and a broken sword. "How have you contrived to still these troubled waters?" "I've chanced upon an old ally in the Master of the Mint," answered Rowland. The colour slowly left her cheeks, the lines of her mouth hardened.
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This video was uploaded to waterscolumns.info on 27-09-2024 11:47:28