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Enter, with , whom she leads to the sofa, then lays him along, and spreads a shawl over him, and then takes a note from her pocket.

Tank you, good moder. What is dat?

Something to divert you, my dear;—a note from Lady Worrymore.

Someting to torment me.

She is too good to you, indeed.

Not good—not good. I was well; she stuff me wid cream and comfeit, and make me sick, and now she leave me no rest in my sickness.

Don't be disturbed, dear child; she won't