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and paper? (Running to a writing-table.) I must write immediately; I have been prevented by a hurry of engagements all the morning. (Sits down and writes very fast, speaking to them at the same time.) The sweet, heavenly creature! it is two long hours since I heard of him.

The juggling boy, I suppose, who is sick with eating plum cake.

The dear little darling! and he leans his aching head on the pillow—with such languid softness—the 'kerchief twisted round it, too—no model for an artist was ever so beautiful!

Your Ladyship must have him painted so; and take care to keep him sick till the picture is finished.

Unfeeling savage!

A little more cake will do the business.

Don't speak to me. (Motioning him off with her hand, and muttering aloud as she looks over the note she has finished.) Let me know