" "It's a hopeless job," grumbled Blueskin, "and harm will come of it. “It’s very good,” she said. Ben had scarcely adjusted his oars, when the gleam of a lantern was seen moving towards the bank. At last she was roused. ‘You were supposed to be nursing him,’ Martha grumbled, ‘and helping him convalesce. " "It came from Lady Trafford's jewel-box. She would always be waiting upon this boy, he mused.
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